The Other Side of the Wall
by Gypsy Dance and Broken Glass
Summary: These are the things that nightmares are made of. Someone is out to wreak havoc on the lives of our favorite trio, and it's all they can do to just stay alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the wonderful characters created by Tanya Huff, or portrayed by the lovely actors on the hit TV show 'Blood Ties', though I wish I were as lucky.

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Night was fast approaching in Toronto, and Vicki Nelson sat alone in her office, lights off, eyes closed, senses alert. It was April, and the day had been warm enough to open the windows, and she hadn't bothered to close them; she was expecting a visitor. 

A light breeze fluttered against the curtains, and Vicki smiled into the dark. She didn't need to open her eyes to know who was standing amongst the shadows, mere feet away.

"Hey stranger."

A familiar hand, cool to the touch, traced a finger along her jaw line.

"Hi."

His scent filled her nostrils, and she breathed in deeply, taking comfort in his nearness. She doubted she would ever fully understand this, because being so near a person who could drain the life from her in mere seconds had he the will would have been terrifying in any other situation. But for some reason Henry Fitzroy was one of only a select few whom she knew she could count on, vampire or not.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier."

"The sun just set, Henry. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"Let me rephrase that. I'm sorry I didn't come _sooner_."

Vicki knew what he meant. It had been over a week since they'd seen each other. The last time they had been together they had gotten into an argument over one of Vicki's cases. Once again, they had disagreed over her need to dive headfirst into the most dangerous of situations, Vicki claiming it was necessary, Henry insisting she was being foolish.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he'd said, grabbing her shoulders and trying to shake some sense into her. He had known it was a bad idea, but somehow, when he was around her, logic often escaped him.

"You sound like Mike," Vicki had snapped, backhanding Henry hard enough for him to loosen his grip ever-so-slightly.

"Well maybe you should listen to him," Henry argued, hardly moved by her attempt at violence. "Since you obviously won't listen to me."

"I think you're both idiots," she growled, prying his hands from her arms. "And I think it'd be best if you just leave."

Henry blinked; so fast a mortal would never have noticed. But Vicki did. She may have been just an average human being, and she knew him better than anyone had in more than a century.

"You don't mean that," he said calmly, taking a step back, feeling the anger radiating off her skin with such intensity it nearly burned him.

"Yes, I do. GET OUT!" she had screamed. "I don't want to hear about Mike, I don't want to hear about your need to be overprotective because you think you know more than I do. You may be old as fuck, but you've lived in this lifetime just as long as I have, and I know how to do my job."

"I never questioned your ability to do your job, Vicki."

"You just question _how_ I do my job." She opened the door. "Get out."

Henry had granted her request and had stayed away, giving her time to cool down. He knew her well enough by now to know that, eventually, her anger with him would subside. He also knew that if he came anywhere near her before her anger had dissipated, she would be able to sense him, and that would only make things worse. And so he had kept his distance for nearly two weeks, pleased to see that tonight she seemed glad to see him.

She shook her head, remembering the last time they had been together. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted." Henry smiled, running his fingers through a section of her hair. He loved the way a shudder ran through her body every time he touched her. She reached out and caressed his cheek, any anger she'd had stored in case of another fight draining.

"So, tell me about the case you're working on," Henry said, pulling himself from her grip, smirking at the brief look of surprise that fluttered across her face. "Any zombies that need salting, any mummies needing a good night's rest?"

Vicki shook her head and made her way to the window, taking a deep breath of the spring night air. The moon was just a sliver in the night sky, and birds chirped in a nearby tree. She couldn't help but wonder if Henry ever noticed things like that; the slight change in the air that signaled the beginning of spring, birds chirping, the dew that appeared on the grass late at night and stayed until the sun came up.

"Spring's almost here," he said, as if reading her thoughts. Though she knew it was impossible, because while he could sense things normal people could not, reading minds was not part of the job description.

She nodded, tracing the patterns imprinted on her wrists. "I don't suppose you really get to enjoy it."

"No. I don't." He let out something resembling a sigh. "But there are plenty of other things I can enjoy." He took a step towards her. "Like spending time with you."

"Like not arguing," Vicki teased.

Henry grinned. "Like not arguing." He leaned his head against the wall and peered down his nose at her. "Did you and Mike have arguments as stupid as ours when you were involved?" He wasn't sure why he'd voiced the question that had been nagging at him for over a week, but he couldn't take it back now. He couldn't read the look on Vicki's face either, and that worried him.

She sighed. "Worse." Vicki ran a hand through her hair, slowly closing the gap between them as she spoke. "We fought about everything. Even something as stupid as how often we did laundry, or the color of the sheets." She was only a foot away. "We still fight. A lot."

"But you care about him." It wasn't a question.

Vicki's breath brushed his face. "You didn't come here to talk about Mike and I's relationship, Henry, and I certainly don't intend on letting you."

His skin crawled as their fingers intertwined, a shiver now running down his spine. She had the power to do things to him no one else ever could. He often wondered if he had actually loved those other women in his past, or if this was something entirely different.

Soon the inches between them were gone, and all rational thought was, too.

* * *

"Where were you last night?" Mike asked, planting himself on the edge of Vicki's desk. "I tried calling." 

"I was busy," she said simply, scribbling something on a notepad.

"Busy with Henry Fitzroy," Mike muttered. "I thought you two weren't speaking."

"He apologized."

"In more ways than one, it seems," Celluci said, staring pointedly at her wrist. Two sets of matching bite marks stared back at him. _She didn't even try to hide them_.

"That's none of your business, Mike," she said coolly, her barriers in place. She was ready to fight, he could feel it.

"We were just doing really well, that's all," he said defensively.

"You and I make up when we fight," Vicki replied. "Why shouldn't Henry and I?"

"We don't make up the way you two do," Celluci snarled. "I told you, Vicki, I love you. I'm not willing to give you up."

"That decision isn't yours to make," Vicki said, her voice dangerously calm, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her resolve.

Mike Celluci sighed, running a hand through his hair. They had had this discussion numerous times, yet they seemed to be going in circles, never actually getting anywhere. As soon as he thought he had gained some ground, Vicki dragged him back to reality.

"C'mon," he said, pulling on his jacket. "Let's just get some lunch, okay?"

"Can't," Vicki said, shuffling papers on her desk. "I've got work to do."

"I thought your caseload was pretty light this week," Mike prodded.

"Things change."

"Are you really going to shut me out, Vicki?! I have been there for you every time you and Fitzroy get into a fight, when you aren't sure how you feel, and I'm certain you do know, you're just avoiding it. I have helped you solve numerous cases by putting my own career, my own _life_, on the line, and I've even kept that damned vampire's secret, and you're still shutting me out?"

Vicki glared at him from over her glasses. "I have work to do."

Mike shook his head in defeat. He'd pushed to hard, to soon. He'd asked for her coldness this time, but it still didn't make him feel any better.

Vicki had lied; her workload _was_ light. Apparently even murderers enjoyed spring enough to hold off on killing for a few weeks. However, it seemed that Mike did not feel the need to contain his thoughts, though he had always been that way. Mike had always spoken what was on his mind, regardless of whether or not he knew it would cause a fight. It _did_ bother her that Henry seemed to be the only thing plaguing Mike's mind lately. The two of them had always been territorial when it came to her, and it annoyed her to no end, but she had learned to deal with their macho need to protect her by ignoring them both when needed. Right now she needed Mike to stop being so jealous, and for Henry to become a normal human being, but both, she knew, were impossible.

* * *

Sweat danced across her brow as she slept, the blankets twisted around her. Vicki had never been subject to powerful nightmares until recently, and it nagged her that they took up so much of her night. 

_She ran down an alleyway, a large, unknown shape following closely behind. Bodies lay around her, but she didn't have time to examine them, because she knew that if she stopped, she'd soon join them. When she reached the dead end she came across every night, she turned, her hands shielding her face from the oncoming attacker. When it was within a few feet of her, she made a vain attempt to slip past it, but was grabbed from behind and thrown against a wall. A knee pinned her to the ground, and when she peered up into the eyes of her attacker, she screamed. _

Henry had been watching her sleep, torn between the idea of waking her or letting the nightmare conclude itself. He'd opted for the later, though he realized it may have been a bad idea when Vicki let out a blood-curdling shriek that reverberated in the empty apartment.

Her eyes flew open and searched the room desperately for anything she could recognize, snatching her glasses off the bedside table. Her gaze settled on Henry, who stood silently in the corner.

"How long have you been there?" she said, her voice husky with sleep.

"A while," he replied honestly.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked. She knew he didn't.

He moved to the edge of the bed and took a seat, covering one of her hands with his. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she said simply. "What time is it?"

"Nearly three." He still had time.

She wiped the sweat from her brow as Henry untangled the blankets around her, his hands occasionally brushing against her side.

"Do you always come to watch me sleep?" she asked after a while, once her breathing had returned to its usual steady, even beat.

Henry considered silence over an honest answer, but watching her writhe in her sleep made it hard for him to lie to her. In consciousness, Vicki Nelson was the strongest person he'd ever met. In sleep, a side of her he didn't know existed.

"Not always. But often." He felt her fingers curl around his. "You've been having trouble sleeping lately," he said matter-of-factly.

Vicki nodded, not really sure what to say. A vampire felt the need to slip into her apartment almost every night, just to watch her sleep, yet she wasn't even the least bit concerned.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," Henry said quietly. "But if you do, I'm here." _I'll always be here._

Vicki leaned back into her pillow and sighed. "I'm just tired, Henry, that's all."

Henry knew what that meant. It meant that she had wanted to stay up to see him that night, but fatigue had overtaken her, and she was too tired to fight it off. It was part of what he hated about being a vampire. Mike Celluci could spend all day and all night with her if he had such an inclination. He, on the other hand, only had the night, and he couldn't expect Vicki to go the rest of her life without sleeping.

"Do you want any help?" he asked, watching her closely. He was always startled by how vulnerable she seemed in near-sleep.

Vicki raised an eyebrow. "Vampire magic says you can put people to sleep? I've never heard of that one."

Henry smiled. "Just relax."

He placed a hand on either side of her temple, massaging them lightly. He could feel her relax beneath his touch and leaned in to plant a light kiss upon her forehead.

"Good night, Vicki."

She mumbled something he couldn't understand, but she was soon breathing in slow, steady, even beats, obviously asleep. He settled back against the headboard, his fingers tracing circles around the bite marks on her wrist. He hadn't fed in three nights and the hunger was growing. He didn't have time tonight, but tomorrow, before finding Vicki, he would feed. Vicki often teased that he needed to adapt to modern society and start dining out.

"Can't you just eat raw steak or something?" she'd ask.

If only it were that easy.

The bedside clock now read 5:30am, and Henry sighed. It was time for him to leave. He laid Vicki's arm across her stomach, pushed a stray curl off her face, and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Mike Celluci lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, head cluttered. There was a lot on his mind, but none of it had to do with work. No, Henry Fitzroy was on his mind, and that's all that had been on his mind since he'd first met him. Mike was a competitive guy in just about every aspect of his life, but when it came down to fighting for Vicki's love, he would not let anyone stand in his way, especially a vampire who had no right trying to win her affections. 

"How could that even work?" he asked the darkness.

It couldn't, he knew deep down. Henry was immortal, he could live forever if he was careful. Vicki, on the other hand, was like himself in that someday, regrettably, they would die. If she, for some crazy reason, chose Henry, what would he do when she died? He could just find someone else. He could have a million more Vickis if he so chose. Mike, on the other hand, his life would be over if Vicki died. There was no one else quite like her, no one that could even come close. He would never be able to find a replacement should she make what he considered to be the wrong decision.

"But she wouldn't choose him," he argued with himself. "We have history."

_But they_ could _have history_.

"He wouldn't turn her into a vampire just so he could keep her… would he?"

_You know he could.  
_

Mike battled with himself well into the night, and when his alarm went off at 6am the following morning, he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

* * *

Vicki awoke to the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. Pulling on a sweatshirt, she headed into the office to see Coreen piling over a large stack of books. 

"I thought you didn't go to class anymore," Vicki said, stifling a yawn.

"I don't," Coreen said, handing her a cup of coffee. "It's just some light reading."

Vicki counted at least eight books splayed out on her kitchen table. _Light reading, my ass._

"I found some information about that missing kid you asked me to look into," the young woman said, pushing a pile of notes across the table. Vicki thumbed through them and nodded. As chatty as Coreen was at times, she had to admit that she was useful.

"Thanks. This is great."

Coreen didn't even notice the rare praise, already running her finger along a line of text in a large, leather-bound novel.

_Sometimes it's like talking to a brick wall_, Vicki mused, heading back towards the bathroom to shower. Rummaging through her closet for a clean set of clothes, she came across one of Henry's shirts folded neatly in the corner. It seemed as if he was omnipresent, always a part of her, whether he was physically near her, or just a lingering scent. The corner of her room smelled like him from his constant nighttime vigilance. Her pillow fought to mask his smell with Mike's, but it was still there, though faint. Everywhere she went she was constantly reminded that two men, complete opposites, but both able to complete her, were fighting over her, and it would have driven her crazy, was she anyone else. But Vicki Nelson was not going to let Henry or Mike distract her. They could fight all they wanted, but she would continue to ignore them, just as she always had.

A knock sounded at the door. _Bang. Bang. Bang._ Mike's knock. A policeman's knock. She heard Coreen let him in, and was hoping he'd wait in the office, but moments later the door opened and Vicki had to quickly pull a blanket off the bed to cover herself.

Mike smirked.

"I don't know why you bother," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "I've already seen everything." _I bet Fitzroy has, too._

"Good morning to you, too, you lousy bastard," Vicki muttered, though her voice held no anger.

"It's almost 10," Mike said, checking his watch. "Pretty late for you."

"Couldn't sleep," She said, hiding behind the closet door as she pulled on clean clothes.

_Probably because a certain vampire was here all night_.

Vicki could hear his thought even through the silence.

"No, Mike. Don't even go there."

"Well, I'm sure he was here, Vicki! I'm not stupid."

"Why can't we have a single conversation that doesn't involve Henry?" Vicki pleaded, running a brush through dripping hair. "It was starting out to be a good day."

"Because Henry Fitzroy is all I can think about!"

Vicki stared at him.

"Gee, Mike, I never would've pegged you as-"

"This isn't funny, Vicki."

"No, it's not. It's stupid. Mike, c'mon! Can't you just let it go?"

"Let it go that a… _vampire_," he spat, "is trying to seduce you?"

"If he wants to try, that's none of your business! I don't belong to you, Mike."

Mike let out a low, guttural sound and shook his head. "Maybe not, but you certainly can't belong to _him_."

Vicki blew out a breath. "Stop it, Mike. Today was supposed to be a good day, and you just ruined it. I have enough information to find a missing kid and bring him home to his parents today. It was supposed to be a good day. And now it's not. Because you just had to come over here and yell some more about Henry. _Henry_, Mike. You came to yell about Henry, when you really should be yelling at yourself. If you two want to fight over me, fine. But don't drag me into it, because I have enough on my plate as it is. I don't need to baby-sit you two." She grabbed her coat and headed for the door.

"Grow up, Mike."

He watched her leave, her shoulders tense, back straight. He hadn't intended on arguing with her, but it seemed as if that was all they were capable of these days. He would've given her space if he'd thought he could afford it. But any time he gave up was a chance Fitzroy had to tare down her defenses, and that was not something he was willing to deal with. He wasn't going budge an inch. If he had to give up his nights, so be it. But he sure as hell wasn't going to give up the day, too.

* * *

It was dusk, and Vicki sat at her desk, chewing at the tip of her glasses. Minus the fight she'd had with Mike that morning (and what was that, anyway?), it had been a good day. She had made headway on one of her missing persons cases, and had been lucky enough to return a missing boy to his parents, nailing the guy who'd kidnapped him nearly a week ago. She wasn't exactly tired, but energy seemed to be something she was lacking at the moment. She knew Henry would be awake soon, but to be honest, she really wasn't up to seeing either him _or_ Mike. What she wanted was some peace and quiet. Henry had the sense to usually keep his questions about Mike to himself, which she appreciated, but she could sense his need to ask them, and didn't want to deal with that tonight. 

There was a bar a few blocks away that she knew of, though she'd never been. Maybe what she needed was some anonymity, a place where vampires couldn't reach her and the police wouldn't bother to look.

Decision made, she pulled on her leather jacket and walked the short distance to the Salty Toad, taking a seat at a corner table, beer in hand. She had felt the stares as she entered, she was used to it. Henry may have had a lifetime of positive reinforcement, as he so called it, but so had she.

Taking a swig from her bottle, she casually scanned the room and caught the eye of one of the men at the bar. He smiled, and came over to stand by her table.

"Hi," he said, offering a hand. "I'm Nathan."

"Vicki Nelson," she said, offering the seat across from her.

His eyes were kind, a dark hazel, though not as dark as Henry's, his hair a dirty golden blonde, though lighter than Mike's. He was about 5'11", a perfect balance between the two, and his smile was entrancing.

"Pleased to meet you. Now, what's a beautiful woman doing sitting all by herself?"

Any other woman would have smiled at the compliment, but Vicki's brow twisted in thought, unsure of how to answer. Nathan waited patiently for a response.

"Honestly, I'm hiding."

"Honestly," Nathan said, clinking his bottle against hers, "I think you chose the perfect place."

Vicki smiled. "Maybe I did."

* * *

Moaning could be heard from the alley behind the bar, though it wasn't the kind that would grab Vicki's attention. There were two kinds of moaning, one being the kind one makes when they're in pain and words cannot be formed, the other the sounds one makes in the midst of making love. The moans coming from the alley were of the second in nature, and so Vicki had paid no attention upon entering the bar. 

Henry, however, could sense her presence a mile away. Her scent was so recognizable it caused him to shudder and pull away from the woman he'd been feeding on.

"What's wrong, baby?" she purred, pulling him back.

He blinked, positive of what he'd felt. Vicki was inside, only a wall separating them. Why hadn't she waited for him?

"Baby?"

His gaze returned to his prey, his lips curling up in a smile. He would know when Vicki left, and so he lowered his lips to the unknown woman's neck and continued to slake his thirst for something he refused from the woman on the other side of the wall.

* * *

"It's getting late," Vicki announced, her words a bit slurred from the alcohol in her system. She wasn't inebriated, but she had definitely had one to many beers. She squinted at the tiny numbers on her watch, the digits shifting the harder she stared. 

Nathan, having only had one drink, was perfectly sober, and nodded his agreement. "Let me walk you to your car."

"Don't have one," Vicki said, heading towards the door.

"Well, at least let me walk you home, then."

Even through the haze of alcohol, Vicki knew it was probably a bad idea. She wasn't sure she could get herself home in the darkness she felt closing in around her, and she had a feeling Nathan would try and stay. And while a one night stand sounded like a not-so-bad idea after the month she'd had, she knew she'd regret it when Mike or Henry, or both, found out.

"No, that's okay," she mumbled, squinting into the night. Her night blindness was bad enough, but adding alcohol to the mixture was never a good idea. She should have known better, and she knew she'd made a mistake in trying to drown her issues with Mike and Henry in liquor. But home was only a few blocks away, she'd be fine.

"Really. I don't mind," Nathan said kindly, offering her his arm.

It was at that moment that Vicki sensed a familiar presence close by, and turned her head to stare into an alleyway. Her vision was terrible, but she didn't need good vision to know who was there.

"Henry-" she began, taking a shaky step in his direction. Then she heard a woman's moan, and her heart stopped.

Nathan looked confused, but kept a firm grip on Vicki's arm.

_I just had to pick the crazy chick_, he chastised himself. _She's talking to a complete stranger in the middle of having sex in a deserted alley. This is awkward._ But Nathan was a noble man, and would at least make sure she made it home safely.

Then the figure in the alley turned, and Henry saw the look on Vicki's face. He had been so wrapped up in feeding that he hadn't noticed her shifting presence. Now he was staring into a face that looked… dare he say, hurt?

"Vicki, wait," he called, stepping away from the woman, who looked incredibly out of place.

_Maybe she isn't crazy_, Nathan thought to himself. _That's good_.

But Vicki had let go of Nathan's arm and taken off in the direction of her office.

"Vicki!"

Nathan watched her run down the street, unsure of whether or not to follow. The man from the alley seemed to be moving much faster than he could've, and so, figuring the other young man could handle things from here, he decided to make sure the woman in the alley was alright.

* * *

"Go away," Vicki yelled at the figure trailing her footsteps. She was having a hard time finding her way home, and while she wished she could ignore Henry's warnings from behind her, she took heed without acknowledgement. She had sidestepped a garbage can, a homeless man and a telephone pole by the time she found herself at the front door to her office, and Henry's presence had not disappeared. 

"You're drunk," he said, watching her fumble for her keys.

"You're an ass," she snapped, shoving random keys into the door, praying one of them would open it so she could be rid of him. She had momentarily forgotten he didn't really need doors.

"Give me the keys," Henry ordered.

"Go to hell."

"Vicki, would you listen to me for a second?" Henry asked as she finally pushed the door open, trying to close it in his face, but missing.

"No! Go away, Henry!"

"Why are you so angry?"

"Why were you having sex in an alley?"

Henry blinked. "That's what this is about?"

Vicki snorted. "Unless you were doing something else, yes, that's what this is about."

Henry watched her pace across the room, her anger filling the space. He knew she was drunk, which was having a direct affect on her attitude towards him. Granted, he knew he should have noticed her leaving, but sometimes the hunger was too much for him to handle. On any other occasion she would have accepted that he was just feeding, but she was aggravated tonight; something else was on her mind, and he couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong.

_Who says _you _did something_, a voice said. _Maybe it was Mike_.

"Vicki, I haven't fed in days." Honesty, it seemed, was always the best policy when it came to Vicki Nelson.

"So you decide to have a little fun on the side, I get it."

Her insides felt twisted, and nausea was taking over. She wasn't sure why, but the idea of Henry being with another woman made her sick. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

Henry felt his cheeks growing warm with anger, but he kept his temper in check. He had seen Vicki drunk once before, and he'd learned to stay calm, regardless of how angry she made him.

"I'm not going to lie to you," he said, his voice measured, seemingly calm.

Vicki laughed. "Like you haven't lied to me before. 'I care about you, Vicki. I would never do anything to hurt you.'"

"And I haven't!"

"No? So what was all that in the alley tonight?"

"What did you expect me to do? Die? Because if I don't feed, that's what will happen."

"You could've asked me."

"Asked you if I could die?" Henry frowned.

"No. You know what I mean."

"I care about you, Vicki. I'm sure as hell not going to feed on you every time I need blood."

"It's never stopped you before."

"I can't do this to you, Vicki. I can't rely on you for everything."

"When you care about someone, that's what you do. Or maybe you really haven't learned the definition of caring over the past five hundred years."

"I have learned a lot more in the past year being in a half-relationship with you than I have in an entire lifetime," he retorted. "Don't try to tell me how I feel."

"Fine."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

Vicki threw up her hands in mock defeat. "Fine. If you say you care, prove it."

Henry wasn't sure he was hearing her correctly.

"If you really care, then you won't suck other women's blood, you won't have sex with them, and you sure as hell won't lie to me about it anymore."

He blinked. That was a tall order for a vampire who didn't want to hurt the woman standing before him. He could never feed off Vicki alone, and had she been sober, she would have known that. But rational thought was lost on her when she was drunk. Henry was positive she would remember little, if any, of this argument when she woke up the following morning, so he nodded in agreement.

"Deal."

He knew this was a promise he could not keep, but she would never remember his agreement, or this night, so what could it hurt to lie to her now? He had always been told to feed on strangers, not the woman you love. Feeding was not meaningful, it was a way to survive. He could have easily promised Vicki to never have sex with another woman, but it was a necessary evil when it came to getting a woman's attention. At least those he chose to feed on.

He could sense the anger cursing through her veins, though it was less intense than before.

"You should get some rest," he said quietly.

"Don't tell me what to do," she retorted, though the force behind it was gone.

Henry made sure she was sound asleep before heading home. The entire drive back, only one thought cursed through his mind: If she remembers any of what I said, she's going to be even angrier tomorrow.

But as the sun rose and Henry fell away into unconsciousness, a tiny thought pushed its way past his worries. Had she finally allowed herself to make a decision? Had it been him?


	2. Chapter 2

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts.

* * *

Detective Mike Celluci sighed in aggravation and slammed the phone back into its cradle. He had tried all three of Vicki's numbers, her apartment, the office, her cell, and she had answered neither. Morning had nearly become afternoon, and she was still asleep.

_ Fitzroy_. Mike was sure of it.

In Mike's professional opinion, Vicki was wearing herself thin. She spent days tracking killers and kidnappers, and when she should have been sleeping, she was making love to a nearly five-century old vampire. He could see the changes; mouth drawn, dark circles forming beneath her eyes, sleeping in when she was usually awake and chasing bad guys by eight. What Vicki needed, he knew, was rest.

_No, _the familiar voice in his head argued. _What she needs is to stay away from Henry Fucking Fiztroy.  
_

Mike agreed. He had seen Vicki change a great deal over the past year. Where a logically thinking ex-cop once was, a vampire-believing, demon-chasing, psychic-reading believer in all things supernatural now stood. If it had been anyone else, he would've considered them crazy. Vicki, on the other hand, he just saw as lost.

Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of King Henry VIII, had changed both their lives immensely; Vicki had become enamored with the supernatural, and Mike could feel himself losing her, regardless of how hard he tried to save her.

He had spent countless nights sitting in his car outside Vicki's office, watching their fanged friend come and go as he pleased. Mike had a key; Henry apparently didn't need one. Mike sometimes wondered if he had a broom he rode around on and came and went through the windows, but he knew it was a stupid idea.

Staring at the clock above his desk, Mike sighed, rubbing a hand across the stubble forming on his chin. Almost noon, and still nothing. It would have been easier to just drive over and make sure she was alright, but he knew it was a bad idea. Vicki hated it when he checked up on her, and lately, antagonizing her had only strained their relationship more. He would be patient and wait for her call.

He prayed it would come soon.

* * *

Vicki awoke with a splitting headache, regretting her decision to drown her frustrations in alcohol. Of course she had known it was a bad idea, but she was beyond annoyed with Mike and Henry's obsession to win her over. It had been nice to meet someone completely uninvolved, though she didn't remember much more than his name and that he was neither vampire nor cop. Nathan had appeared, on the surface, to be a genuinely nice guy, one who wasn't going to fight over her like a two year old vying for the attention of a parent. 

Sun was pouring in through the bay window, and she tried to pull her thoughts together. She couldn't remember much about the previous night, though she remembered running across Henry at one point, and him following her home. Other than that, the evening was a blur. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

It was convenient, having her home and office in one location. She quickly showered and made her way downstairs, surprised to find Coreen already there, a pot of coffee brewed and waiting.

"Isn't it a little early for you to be up?" she asked, taking a sip, feeling it scald her throat the entire way down. "You usually keep the same hours as Henry."

"It's almost noon," Coreen said, rolling her eyes and pointing at the clock. "You've been sleeping in a lot lately. Henry been around much?"

Vicki raised an eyebrow at her assistant. "As if that were any of your business."

Coreen raised her hands in surrender. "Just asking."

"The answer's no, anyway. I ran into him last night, but that's it."

It was obvious Coreen didn't believe her, but she was done talking about her relationships, or lack thereof, with someone who didn't need to know the intimate details of her personal life.

"Oh," Coreen said after a pause, pointing in the direction of Vicki's office. "There's a guy in there waiting to talk to you. Nathan Something-or-other."

Surprised, Vicki spat her coffee back into the mug clutched in her hands.

"How long has he been here?"

"About an hour, I think. Why?"

Vicki rolled her eyes in frustration. "It never occurred to you to wake me up?"

"He said it was personal and that he'd wait. Besides, remember the last time I tried to wake you up? You nearly knocked me out with that stupid gun you keep under your pillow."

Vicki remembered.

"Alright, never mind." She twisted in place, trying to regain her bearings. "Uh, tell him I'll be there in a second."

Coreen watched Vicki's retreating figure and laughed. The man waiting in the office was incredibly good looking, and by Vicki's reaction, she could tell they had met before. It was a rare thing to see Vicki hung over, and Coreen basked in the hilarity of it all.

Vicki returned a few minutes later in jeans and a white t-shirt, hair pulled back into a ponytail, glasses teetering on the edge of her nose, which she forcefully pushed back.

"When you're done with that," Coreen called after her, "Mike called."

Vicki groaned. "Of course he did."

She shut the door to her office and smiled.

"Didn't expect to see you again."

Nathan grinned. "Same here. You took off so fast last night, I thought maybe I'd done something to scare you."

Vicki tugged at the small bits she remembered from the previous night, praying they would form a complete picture, but nothing recognizable came to her.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said, pushing some papers aside and taking a seat on the edge of her desk. "I don't know what came over me."

"I came by to make sure you got home alright, but it's obvious you did," Nathan said, looking around at the cluttered office.

"Home sweet home." She was a bit surprised he had even bothered to look up her office, let alone drive over to make sure she was fine, but she found it charming nonetheless.

Nathan stood and came to stand a few feet away from her.

"Look, I have a feeling that guy in the alley last night is pretty special to you, but I think we really hit it off. What I really came here to say was that I'd like to take you out for dinner some time this week. If that's okay with you," he added hastily, seeing the look of surprise on Vicki's face.

_Dinner. A real date, where the guy I'm with actually eats food, and doesn't talk about other men the entire time._ "What a concept," she muttered.

"Sorry?" Nathan asked, inclining his head.

Vicki looked up quickly, realizing she'd spoken aloud.

"You know what? Why not."

"Really?" Nathan grinned.

"Yeah. How about Thursday night?"

"I'll pick you up at eight."

Vicki smiled. "Eight's fine."

"Well," Nathan said, heading for the door, "In that case, I'll see you in two days."

"Bye."

She watched as Nathan made his way down the steps and got into his car, a wan smile playing across her features.

_A normal date, with a normal guy._

She tried to remember the last date she'd been on that hadn't been with Henry or Mike; she couldn't.

Maybe life could be normal after all.

_As normal as normal can be when you're friends with a vampire, _she reminded herself.

She smiled and closed the door as Nathan's car faded from view.

* * *

"I don't think this is such a good idea, Vicki," Mike grumbled, watching her pace the room, clothes strewn about the floor. She had already changed twice, and he had a feeling she'd never spent this much time getting ready for an evening out with him. 

She shot him a look over one shoulder. "And why's that?"

"What if he's a creep?"

"Then he's a creep and I take a cab home."

"At least let me go with."

Vicki laughed. "Nathan didn't invite you on this date, Mike. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Why are you?"

"Mike, it's too early in the evening to start arguing," she said, digging in her closet for a pair of heels.

"Okay, fine. But why is this date so important?"

Vick turned and straightened, dropping the shoes to the floor and sliding her foot into one, teetering against the bed as she pried her foot into the other.

"Because it's just a normal date."

Mike narrowed his eyes, confused. "Am I supposed to take offense to that?"

"He's a normal guy, Mike. He isn't a vampire, and he isn't you. He's just a nice guy who wants to take me on a date. He isn't fighting over me, he's being a gentleman and doing things the right way. He's taking me out to dinner at an expensive restaurant, and I have a feeling he isn't going to talk about Henry the entire time. I think it's nice."

"_Nice._" Mike laughed, though it was dripping with sarcasm. "Nice isn't a word you use to describe a whole lot, Vicki. Nice is what you say when you don't want to be honest."

"Yeah, well, he's a nice guy, and I intend on having a good time." She grabbed her jacket off the bed and hurried out into the hall as a knock sounded at the door.

"G'night, Mike. Lock the door on your way out."

Mike watched from the bedroom window as she walked with Nathan to his car, how a smile flashed across her face as he handed her a long-stemmed white rose, how he opened the door for her. He may have been a nice guy, but Mike didn't care. The woman he had spent years fighting for was going on a date with a complete stranger, and he didn't like it one bit.

* * *

"Purple isn't your color," Henry said, watching Mike finger the satin strap of one of Vicki's discarded dresses. 

Mike whirled around, angry he hadn't heard Henry enter the room.

"When did you get here?"

"Just now." He looked around. "Where's Vicki?"

"On a date," Mike muttered, hanging the dress back in the closet.

"Why?"

"That's what I said," Mike replied, trying to keep his anger at bay. Being in the same room with Henry always made his blood boil.

Henry could sense the blood rushing through the other man's veins and smirked. Mike was nearly twice his size, but the thought that he made him nervous was somewhat entertaining.

"When did she get the chance to meet someone she liked enough to have dinner with?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe he took a direct approach and knocked her out like you did."

Henry glared at him from across the room.

"Jealous much?" he snarled.

"Admit it, you are, too. Why else would you be here?"

"I haven't seen her in a few days."

Mike chuckled. "Right. Because you don't sit in her room and watch her sleep."

Henry sucked in a breath.

"Yeah, she told me about that," Mike whispered dangerously. He didn't bother to mention that Vicki had said she felt safer with him there, especially with the crazy nightmares she'd been having.

"And you don't think I can't see you in your car, sitting outside her house at night, watching?" Henry threatened. "Leave us alone, Detective."

"Then stay away from her!"

Henry's eyes flashed dangerously.

"She isn't a prize to be won," he said, his voice quiet. "She hates how overprotective you are."

"Yeah? And she hates the fact that you sleep around."

"We already talked about that," Henry replied. "She understands."

"She may understand, but that doesn't mean she has to like it."

"I never said she had to."

"Go home, Fitzroy," Mike muttered. "I don't want to see your mug around here any time soon."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Detective. I'll be back tomorrow. I expect you won't be here."

Mike blinked, and when his eyes opened again, Henry was gone.

* * *

A candle glowed on a table full of empty china and two half-finished glasses of wine. Vicki sat across from Nathan, engrossed in conversation. Dinner had been wonderful, the conversation even better. It wasn't like dates with Mike in which he spent more than half the night asking her about Henry. In all honesty, she hadn't even been on an actual date with Henry, though he had cooked her dinner on more than one occasion. 

No, this date was completely unlike any she had been on in quite some time. Nathan had bought her flowers, had opened doors for her all evening, and hadn't brought up other men since greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

He glanced down at his watch then and groaned. "It's nearly one. I should probably get you home. I'm not sure what time crime busters get up, but I would assume early enough."

Vicki smiled. "Dinner was great. Thank you."

Nathan offered her his arm as they walked to his car.

"I've been here before, but I don't think I've ever enjoyed it as much as I did tonight. So I guess I should be the one thanking you," he winked.

The drive uptown was full of laughter as they joked about mutual likes and dislikes.

"I'm originally from Brooklyn. Big Dodgers fan."

"Baseball, huh? Never was a fan of watching men beat things with sticks and run after balls."

Nathan laughed. "Yeah, well I never would've pegged you as the sort of girl to religiously read comic books."

Vicki forced a smile; she had let that tiny fact slip during dinner. However, this moment was the first time she'd thought of Henry the entire evening, and that was an accomplishment all in itself.

"A friend of mine writes them," she admitted, breathing a mental sigh of relief as her office came into view. She didn't want to ruin the evening by thinking about Henry.

The car slowed to a halt, and Nathan got out to open her door, bent over in mock chauffeur style. He helped her out and handed her her bag.

"I had a really good time tonight," Vicki said honestly. How many times had she said that to Mike?

_How many times have I actually meant it? _

"Me too," Nathan agreed, taking a step closer. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Vicki thought for a moment. "I'd like that."

"I'll call you this weekend and we'll work something out. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great."

She felt a warm hand close around hers and watched as Nathan brought it to her lips and planted a light kiss on her fingertips.

"Goodnight, Vicki."

He made sure she was safely inside before pulling away.

Vicki watched him leave, her fingertips still tingling. In every since of the word, her date had been perfectly normal. And perfectly wonderful.

She slowly made her way upstairs and tugged off the tight black dress she had been wearing, slipping into a tanktop and cropped pants, pulling the covers up to her chin and smiling foolishly.

For once, she felt like a normal person. Nathan, not knowing anything of her history with men, had been warm and inviting, asking questions, but none too personal. It turns out that he really was as nice as she had gathered the first night she met him, and she was thankful for finding a normal guy to maybe involve in her life. It was too soon to tell, but the idea of possibly dating a normal human being lulled Vicki to sleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

* * *

_She was having trouble breathing. Vicki was lying on her back in an alleyway, her assailant's hands gripping her neck, choking the life from her. The dream had gone further than usual, and she had run for what felt like forever. She had run until it felt as if her lungs would collapse. She hadn't seen her attacker following her, so she had stopped to catch her breath, but he had suddenly appeared out of thin air, wide, rough hands claiming her throat, cutting off any cries for help she would have otherwise made. She struggled against him, a lone cry escaping past her burning lungs._

_"Help!"  
_

"Vicki."

_His firm grip grew even tighter, and she felt herself loosing consciousness.  
_

"Vicki, wake up."

_Arms gripped her shoulders now, and she tried to pry them off, her strength waning. As she felt herself drowning, a familiar voice broke through her fear.  
_

"Vicki? It's okay, it's just a dream. Wake up."

She flailed her arms, feeling the hands around her throat disappear. One arm came into contact with something solid and her eyes flew open. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw Henry rubbing his cheek, which was bright red.

"Ouch!"

A hand immediately went to her throat as she choked on air, her head spinning.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked, flipping on a bedside lamp.

Her voice was shaky. "I-I think so." She stared at his cheek, her face growing hot. "Sorry."

She reached for her glasses, which Henry handed to her. His hands caressed her face, searching her eyes for… God, he didn't even know. It was in the faint light of the lamp that he noticed something strange. Getting up, he flipped on the overhead light and came back, his face inches from hers.

"What was your dream about?" he asked, his tone serious, a hand gently trailing its way down her neck.

"N-nothing. It was just a nightmare. H-Henry, I'm fine." She was still having a hard time catching her breath.

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?" he snapped. "I'm serious, Vicki. What happened?"

Vicki saw growing concern spread across his face as he stared at her neck and felt a shudder run through her.

"It went longer than usual. I couldn't see him, so I stopped to catch my breath." She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything. "I was leaning against a door and he just appeared. Out of nowhere."

"Who?"

Vicki shrugged. "I dunno. I couldn't see his face this time."

Henry didn't press for details about who the assailant had been before. She was talking, which was a big step for someone as secretive and proud as Vicki Nelson.

"He choked me. I… I was losing consciousness before you woke me up."

Henry handed her a mirror, concern wrinkling his brow.

Vicki stared in silence at her reflection. She raised a hand tentatively and touched the large bruise forming over her trachea.

"That's not…?" She looked up, questions in her eyes.

"A handprint. Definitely a handprint."

Vicki's gaze shot back to the mirror.

"How?" she whispered, her eyes flashing between Henry and the throbbing mass that was now her neck.

Henry's face was a mask of calm, but she could sense his worry.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never heard of anything like this before."

He saw her gently prod the side of her neck and wince.

"How bad does it hurt?"

She shrugged. "Not that bad."

_Why, God? Why did you give me such an incredibly difficult woman? _

Henry was perfectly certain it hurt worse than she was letting on, but he let it go. She would never admit to it, and she would never admit that she was scared. 'Scared,' it seemed, was not a word in Victoria Nelson's vocabulary.

"Okay, well," Henry muttered, pushing his hair off his face, "I'll stay with you until daylight. If you have another nightmare, I'll wake you up."

"You don't have a better plan?"

"Do you?" he quipped. Why did she have to question everything he said?

After a second, she shrugged. "Not sleeping."

"Vicki, you need sleep," he said quietly, fluffing her pillow and lowering her head until it was nestled against the cotton. "When was the last time you got a decent night's rest?"

"When I was five," she muttered, but she allowed Henry to pull off her glasses and settle in beside her.

Lights off, and just the moonlight for illumination, she turned on her side to stare at Henry as he lay propped up beside her.

"Henry?"

He turned his gaze to her and he smiled kindly.

"I'll wake you up. I promise."

He pulled her hand out from under the covers and kissed the tender skin on the inside of her wrist. He watched as her eyes closed, and laced his fingers through hers.

"Henry?" he heard her mumble a while later.

"Yes?"

"What happened the other night?"

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand.

_Don't lie_, the voice cautioned him. _Don't do it.  
_

"Nothing."

It wasn't long after that she fell asleep, and he stayed there all night, watching carefully for any signs of a nightmare. Not even a twitch for the rest of the evening. Around five thirty he sensed the earth growing warm with the rising sun and leaned in, his breath just grazing her ear.

"Good morning," he whispered.

Vicki stirred slightly, and he pushed the hair off her shoulders and gently pressed his lips to the dark purple bruise that covered her entire neck.

Her eyes opened, and they searched momentarily for those dark pools of brown that would reflect her gaze.

"I have to go," he whispered, his breath cool against her skin.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, rolling onto her back, resting her head in the space between his neck and shoulder, her breath warming his skin.

"You're safe now," he said. "Mike's here."

Outside, he could sense Mike's presence, no doubt sitting in his car, waiting for him to leave.

"Don't tell him," she whispered.

Henry had been afraid she would say that. While he didn't completely trust Michael Celluci, Vicki's wellbeing came before his issues with the overbearing detective. If she fell asleep during the day, who knew what would happen, or if it would even happen again?

"Promise me you won't tell him," she slurred, her voice still rich with sleep.

Henry sighed. "Alright." He grabbed his coat and turned once he reached the doorway.

"I'll be back tonight. Be careful."

"I'm always careful," she mumbled.

He didn't have time to reply; dawn was fast approaching and he had stayed longer than he should have. He would have to hurry to make it back to his apartment before the sun came up. He hated leaving her, especially when neither was sure what had happened during the night. Knowing that she would be spending the day searching for answers didn't comfort him either, seeing as how she was never very careful when it came to herself. If she figured out what had happened during her dream, who was to say what she would do before he could return.

_Don't do anything stupid_, he pleaded. _Please. Don't do anything stupid.  
_

He saw the glare Mike sent him as he hurried down the steps, but he didn't stop as he heard the man call after him.

"Sorry, Detective," he said under his breath. "I have more important things to do."

_Not to mention you are going hate me even more when you see her neck and assume it was my doing.  
_

Henry sighed as he entered his apartment, throwing his coat in the general direction of the couch, collapsing on the bed.

He would deal with Mike later that evening. When he had answers.

* * *

Vicki tugged at the turtleneck she was wearing, feeling suffocated. She hadn't worn one since she was a little girl, and the only reason she had dug this one out of her closet was because she didn't want to worry Mike. Also, she knew the first thing he would assume was that Henry had caused the bruising, and she did _not _want to give Mike another reason to hate him. 

Sure enough, as Vicki glanced out the window, she could see Mike's car sitting idle across the street. She often wondered how he actually managed to solve cases when he spent so much time watching over her. While she used to think it was a nice gesture back in the days before she had met Henry, she was now annoyed by it. It was as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to watch from across the street like a common stalker.

She snuck outside and was surprised to see Mike leaning back in his seat, eyes closed. She knew he'd be mad, but she couldn't resist, and tapped loudly against the window.

Mike's eyes flew open and he drew his gun, whirling to see who had disturbed him. When he saw Vicki's smirk in the glaring light of dawn, he groaned and rolled down the window.

"Don't you have anything better to do than sit outside my office at six in the morning?" she asked, leaning against the side of the vehicle.

"How was your date?" Mike asked, ignoring her question.

"That really can't be comfortable." Vicki continued as if he had never spoken. "Right? That isn't comfortable. I know your car, and those seats are the most uncomfortable pieces of shit I've ever sat on."

"Do you always have to answer a question with a question?" Mike was growing tired of these games.

She shrugged. "Stop asking them, then." She saw the tired look on Mike's face and took pity. "My date was fine."

"Fine as in awful, or fine as in okay?"

"Fine," Vicki said, "As in good."

"Oh." Mike looked a bit put off. "Okay. Um… good. I guess."

Vicki hated to start her mornings off like this, with Mike and his need to make sure he was constantly present in her life. What he needed to understand was that she didn't need to see him every moment of every day to know that he existed. She rarely saw Henry every night, yet things between them were fine.

She sighed and shook her head. "Go to work, Mike. I don't understand how you can work all day, get hardly any sleep, and still find the time to stalk me," she said lightly. "I have a lot of work to do today, okay?"

Mike narrowed his eyes. "Actual work?"

"What do you think I do all day, Mike? Sit around and knit? Yes, real work." She gave him a small smile. "You used to have a job, remember? Catching bad guys?"

After a few moments, Mike smiled back, if only half-heartedly. "Yeah, I remember those days." He placed the key in the ignition and let go of the parking break. "I'll call you later."

"Mhm," Vicki said noncommittally. "Get to work, Celluci. You're going to be late." She winked. "Have a good day."

"Yeah. See you."

Vicki stifled a yawn as she made her way back inside and pulled herself up onto the kitchen counter. Her answering machine was blinking, so she splayed her palm and hit the mass of buttons, hoping play was one of them. It was.

"Hello, dear, it's Mom. I haven't spoken to you in over a week and was just wondering how you're doing. How are your eyes, dear? How's Mike, is he alright? The last time we spoke, you two had gotten into a huge fight, remember? Anywho, call me!"

"Vicki, it's Mike. Call me as soon as you get this."

She deleted them both, then checked the clock. It was nearly half past six, making it almost seven thirty at her mother's. She would have been up for a while, so there was no harm in calling now. She stifled another yawn, then picked up the handset and dialed her mother.

"Mom?"

"Vicki! Hello darling, how are you? You sound tired. Have you been getting enough sleep? Maybe you should take a vacation, dear. You could always come stay here for a few days. How does that sound?"

Vicki was holding the phone away from her ear, munching on the remnants inside a cocoa puffs box she'd found in the cupboard. It took her mother's hollering for her to remember that she was supposed to be on the phone and hastily apologized.

"Sorry, Mom. Yeah, I'm fine. I've just had a really busy week."

"Hmph. Well, it sounds to me as if you're overworked. I know it's your job, but, dear, can't you take a break for just a few days? Catch up on some sleep? Maybe go on a date?"

Her mother certainly was not subtle about the fact that she wished Vicki would settle down.

"Speaking of dating, Mom," Vicki said around a mouthful of cereal, "I met a guy."

"You haven't tried to chase him away yet, have you?"

"I don't chase men away!" Vicki said defensively. "They just sort of… _run _ away."

"What about Mike, dear? How is he?"

_A royal pain in the ass.  
_

"He's fine."

"And what about that other friend of yours, what's his name? Horton… Henry… Was it Henry?"

"Yes, Mom, Henry. He's fine, too."

_I guess you could say that you owe him, Mom, for kind of saving my life last night.  
_

"Am I ever going to get to meet him?"

"Um, maybe."

"Well, dear, I know! Why don't you take a few days off, come up and visit your mother, and bring your friend with?"

Vicki wracked her brain for an excuse. "Henry's job kind of… requires him to stay here, Mom. I don't think he could ask for time off if it's not really important."

She smacked her forehead as soon as she'd said it.

Her mother sniffed. "I see. Well, in that case, have a lovely day, dear. Give me a call when you feel it's… _important_." She said the last word with great emphasis, and Vicki heard the tell-tale click of a phone hanging up.

"Great," she muttered, hopping off the counter and made her way into the office, plopping down onto the well-worn couch and pulling her laptop closer.

"I have no idea where to even start looking," she muttered, chewing away at her lower lip. "Um…"

She typed in 'dreams + physical repercussions' but, of course, nothing came up. She tried 'poltergeist' on a whim; useless. After a few more tries she chanced a guess at 'telekinesis,' and a few somewhat-helpful sites popped up, but none that could answer her questions.

She spent all morning searching for answers, though nothing she found was of any particular use in her rather strange situation. Around noon she sat back and closed her eyes, debating whether or not to ask Coreen. The younger girl often knew more about these sort of things that she did, but she wondered how worried she would make her if she explained all that had happened. Even Henry was clueless; how could she expect someone of only twenty years to know more than a 450 year old vampire?

"This is hopeless," she grumbled, throwing her list of searched topics across the room.

Coreen bent down and picked it up, having just walked through the door.

"What's all this?" she asked, reading off the first few things on the list. "Poltergeist, telepathy, dream reading, telekinesis… Did Henry find you a new case?"

"No, he most certainly did not."

Maybe it was best to keep last night's strange occurrence to herself.

"Just doing some research?"

_Why do kids have to be so nosey? _

"You could say that."

"How was your date with Nathan?" Coreen asked, handing Vicki a styrofoam cup, Starbucks logo on the front.

Vicki accepted gratefully, taking a sip of the steaming hot coffee and rolling up her sleeves.

"It was fine."

Her assistant raised an eyebrow.

Vicki groaned. "You too? Fine. It was good. Satisfied?"

"Did he kiss you?" Coreen asked excitedly.

"No. And it's none of your business. Again."

Coreen smirked and took a seat in an old leather chair beside the window.

"Okay. Well, what do you need me to do today, then?"

"Besides hound me about my date, you mean?"

The younger woman just rolled her eyes.

"I need you to find out anything you can on dreams and their physical manifestations."

"Cool. I know just where to look. There's a book about stuff like that at the library. I'll go get it."

"That'd be great," Vicki said, pushing her towards the door.

"Seriously, I need you to find me something on this, Coreen. It's important."

"Okay, okay, hold your horses," she said, trying to grab her things as Vicki shoved her out the door. "I'll be back later."

The door closed.

"I won't let you down," came the sarcastic afterthought through the glass.

"Thanks," Vicki called, leaning her back against the door and closing her eyes.

Her head hurt, and right now what she needed was a nap. However, unsure of what would happen should she drift into unconsciousness, she settled on coffee instead, planting herself next to the window, waiting for the sun to go down.

* * *

Henry appeared as soon as the sun had set beyond the horizon, hair washed, clothes changed, cologne freshly applied. Vicki would never understand how he got everything done so quickly. He found her sitting on her front steps, eyes closed, leaning against the brick wall beside her. At first he was afraid something was wrong, that perhaps she had fallen asleep and somehow died in a dream, but her eyes opened at his approaching footsteps. 

For a brief second, relief flashed across her face, then was gone. Henry took a seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders to ward off the chilly night air.

"Did you find anything?"

She shook her head. "Coreen's been at the library all day trying to find something."

"Did you tell her what happened?" He had a feeling he knew the answer.

"No, she's worse than Mike. If I told her, she'd be off worrying herself into a corner."

"Why does it surprise you that there are people out there who care about you?" Henry asked. "You're something else, Vicki. You're incredibly strong and dedicated; you're a good friend; you put everyone else before yourself, but you refuse to let anyone near you."

Vicki shrugged. "You said it before – I'm not the trusting type."

"You have to learn sometime."

"I guess," she said noncommittally.

"Does it have to do with your dad?" Henry pressed. He knew asking questions wasn't the way to win Vicki's heart, but there was so much he didn't know about her. Granted, there were many things he_ thought _he knew, but he kept those things to himself.

Vicki surprised him by answering. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't trust a lot of people, not just men."

"But mostly men."

"Mostly." She gave him a sidelong glance. "I trust _you_."

Henry's heart plummeted. She was admitting her faith in him, and he had lied to her just the night before.

_You can't tell her now_, the voice said. _You'll look like an ass, and she'll never trust you again.  
_

Henry knew the voice was right, but his insides were twisting themselves into knots. Maybe some of what Mike had said about him was true after all.

"Trusting's good," he said simply.

He stole a look at her as she stared up into the night sky. Her face was pale, her mouth tight at the corners, dark circles under her eyes. She needed sleep, and while Henry wished he could make her stay awake in order spend time with her, he wasn't about to let her health suffer because of him.

As if on cue, Vicki let out a tiny yawn, covering it with the back of her hand.

"I think it's well past someone's bedtime," Henry teased, standing and offering her his hand. "C'mon, sleepyhead."

Vicki, who would usually have protested, clutched his hand and pulled herself up, making her way inside.

Henry followed, thankful she hadn't put up a fight. Obviously she knew her body well enough to know that she needed rest if she wanted to continue to function.

"My mother called today," she called from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth."

"Oh?" Henry replied curiously, pulling a set of pajamas from her drawer and laying them on the bed.

"She wants to meet you," Vicki said, coming back into the bedroom and yanking on the t-shirt and shorts Henry had set aside.

He smiled. "Really. What did you say?"

"I said your job didn't allow you much time off, and that you couldn't ask for a vacation if it wasn't important."

"Ah." He saw something flash across Vicki's face and understood the implication of her response.

"Needless to say, she hung up on me after that."

As she climbed into bed, she noticed that Henry had opened the windows.

He caught her gaze and smiled. "I like spring," he said matter-of-factly. "I never really thought about it until you said something the other night. I figured I'd give it a shot."

"How diplomatic of you."

She watched as Henry discarded his shoes, jacket and shirt on a nearby chair and hid her smile by coughing. He climbed in beside her, and she rested her head against his chest, an arm draped across it. His fingers toyed with her hair, and she shifted her head so she could look at him.

"You don't have to babysit me," she said, walls in place.

"Somebody has to look out for you."

"I can take care of myself."

Henry closed his eyes briefly.

_ Why the sudden change in attitude? _

Vicki sensed his frustration and softened.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it, Henry. I just…"

"Won't admit that you're afraid to sleep without someone here tonight."

Her silence was confirmation enough.

Henry kissed the top of her head and ran a hand along her arm.

"I'll be here all night, and I'll wake you when I have to go. It's okay for you to close your eyes."

Vicki did as she was told, though her body remained tense.

"I'm not so tired anymore," she whispered.

Henry rolled over so he was lying on top of her, his hair hanging in her face. Her eyes were still closed, but a smile danced on her lips.

Henry kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, but didn't go near her lips. He tugged lightly at her ear and nuzzled her neck, and yet she remained perfectly still.

Vicki knew it was coming, and when two sets of fangs found her wrist, she opened her eyes to stare into two endless hazel orbs.

She breathed his name once, and it sent shivers down his spine. Vicki tasted like no other, and it made it hard for Henry to stay away. He knew he should have been letting her rest, but he couldn't stop himself. She moaned beneath him, and he smiled against her wrist.

"Henry." There it was again, her voice echoing in the stillness surrounding them, sending shivers through his entire being.

He let go of her wrist and brought his hands up to her face. He ran his thumb over her lips, the other hand caressing her satiny cheek.

"Not tonight," he whispered. "I shouldn't have done that. You need to rest."

"But-" She tried to protest, but he cut her off, covering her mouth with his.

Her lips were like fire, his like ice, the two melding perfectly together.

When he came up for air, he smiled down at her, pressing his lips to hers once more.

"Sweet dreams, Victoria."

She didn't protest.

Enveloped in his arms, she allowed herself to freefall into unconsciousness, having never felt so safe in all her life.

* * *

_ The alley stretched out before her, walls closing in behind. Her chest was on fire; she couldn't breathe. She wanted so much to be able to slow down, to catch her breath, but if she stopped she knew her assailant would be on her in seconds. _

_And so she pressed on, the alley continuing to grow in front of her, continuing to close in from behind. _

_Then, for the first time, another pair of footsteps echoed in the silence, and she searched frantically for their owner, but no one else was there._

_And then she ran smack into something solid. The alley had suddenly turned into a dead end, and footsteps echoed around her, though she wasn't moving._

_She spun around, clutching her chest._

_The alley was now open behind her, and she dreaded the run back. But she had nowhere else to go, so she took a tentative step.  
_

"Vicki."

_ Before she could even shift her weight, something solid sent her flying into the wall behind her. She slid down the brick, the back of her head throbbing. She reached behind her and felt a large lump forming.  
_

"Vicki!"

_ She opened her eyes and screamed as a foot collided with her face._

_She wasn't used to being helpless, but there she was, collapsed on the ground, being pummeled by what felt like fists. Her body ached and she couldn't breathe. She tried to choke out a cry for help, but all that she managed were a few gurgling sounds as hands closed around her throat.  
_

"Vicki, wake _up!_ Please, wake up!"

_ She forced open an eye and finally caught a glimpse of her attacker's face. What she saw nearly took her breath away._

"_Mike," she breathed.  
_

"Vicki!" Henry yelled, shaking her furiously. "Wake the fuck up!"

Suddenly her lashes parted and she stared into Henry's familiar, welcoming eyes, filled with worry.

"Mike," she whispered, her voice shaky.

Henry whipped back the covers to check the damage. Her stomach was bruised, and her face was covered in various shades of blue, one eye already swollen shut.

"What?"

Silence ensued. Henry held her face gently between two hands, but pulled back slightly to watch her. In the twelve months he had known her, he had never seen Vicki cry. He watched as tears silently trickled down her cheeks, eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

"Vicki," he said soothingly, pulling her to him. "Vicki, what happened?"

He didn't think she'd heard him, but finally he felt her lips form words through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He held her at arms length and watched her struggle to speak. Finally, she choked out something that sounded remotely like a name. It took two more tries, but finally sound emerged.

"Mike."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "What?" He seemed to have forgotten it was a dream; or rather, something like one.

She nodded, unaware of the fact that she was crying. Tears were so rare, she had almost forgotten what they were. Her entire body ached, and the memory of Mike's fist colliding with her face was almost too painful for her to bare.

Henry held her close, unable to speak through his anger. So Mike was up to something; Henry had always worried that he was a bit possessive, but this?

But there was that voice again.

_ How could he have done this? He hates anything having to do with this world._

_Unless he has something to hide, _Henry argued with himself.

_ You know it's unlikely._

_It doesn't matter. I have to ask him._

_He'll deny it._

_I can be quite persuasive.  
_

The voice quieted, and Henry noticed Vicki's breathing had as well. Her chest rose and fell in even beats, and she had wiped away the tears that stained her face. She couldn't, however, control her shivering, and Henry pulled her closer, though he knew he could offer no warmth. Hands clung at his back, as if for reassurance that she was no longer dreaming.

"It's alright," he whispered against her neck. "You're safe. I've got you."

This vulnerable side of Vicki made him weak at the knees. In an entire lifetime, he had never met someone so capable of being self-sufficient, so strong, so stable, yet so completely helpless in times of personal crises. She was the first person to offer someone a helping hand, yet the last to accept it.

Here, in this moment, everything Henry knew about Victoria Nelson was swept away. She was frightened, she was trembling, and the only thing he could do was hold her. They were both uncertain as to what was going on, and neither had a clue as to where to even begin searching for answers. Henry, however, knew his first stop was the police station.

Vicki didn't say another word until nearly sunrise. The fear seemed to have drained a bit, and she was more her usual self. The brief hours of vulnerability were gone, and Henry wondered if perhaps _he _ had dreamed the whole thing up.

"Almost bedtime," she said, pulling back the curtains and staring into the pre-dawn warmth of morning.

Henry stood behind her, breathing in her perfume, her scent, her being, her life. He was more worried than he could say, but she seemed to have pushed the night's events from her memory.

_Of course she would. Denial seems to work for her. For a while.  
_

Henry knew that sooner or later she would break, and he would have to be there to catch her as she fell, but he had promised her, if only in his heart, to stand by her side, and stand there he would. Right now, however, he had a brief stop to make before daylight.

"I have to go," he said quietly, turning her around to face him, holding her gaze. "Don't fall asleep."

Vicki raised an eyebrow. "You know not to give me orders when I haven't slept well."

"Vicki, I'm serious," Henry said. "And don't let Mike inside the office."

"Do you really think he had something to do with this? Henry, he hates you; he hates magic. Mike had nothing to do with this."

It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

"I don't care," he replied. "Until I talk to him, don't let him in."

He tucked her hair behind one ear and forced a smile.

"I'll see you tonight."

"Get outta here," she said in an attempt at sounding lighthearted.

Henry waited for the sound of a lock clicking before he left the front steps.

Sunrise was still an hour away, and he didn't need to spend a lot of time with Mike to know whether or not he was guilty; he would risk the visit.

He stood still then, focusing on Mike's well-known lifeforce, then took off towards his apartment.

* * *

Mike Celluci was fast asleep when Henry materialized out of the shadows. The room was immaculate, not a speck of dust in sight. Henry pictured Vicki's room, papers stacked everywhere, clothes strewn about, sheets twisted. Even in sleep, Mike's blankets were even, resting lightly against the body beneath. 

Henry came to stand beside the sleeping man, his eyes dangerous pools of black. He leaned over.

Mike's eyes flew open as a hand closed around his throat.

"Fitzroy," he choked, "Get off of me!"

"What are you doing to her?" Henry growled, his voice a dangerous whisper, fangs glinting in the approaching light.

"What?" Mike spat, both his hands trying to pry Henry off.

"You could kill her," Henry snarled. "I am not going to let you take her away from both of us."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mike shouted, unable to free himself, growing frustrated with himself. He knew Henry's grip was stronger than his own, but he couldn't even budge him.

"The dreams, Detective. What are you doing to her in the dreams?"

Mike looked confused, and as much as Henry would have loved to settle this now, he released the man's throat and took a step back.

"What dreams? What the _fuck _ are you talking about?" Mike glared. "Crazy ass vampire," he muttered.

Henry ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. If Mike wasn't responsible, he didn't know where to look.

"Vicki's been having dreams lately."

"Yeah, the nightmares, I _know_, Fitzroy. She told me."

"No, you don't know," Henry snapped, his eyes still black. "Whatever is happening in her nightmares is happening to her."

_That made absolutely no sense. I wouldn't even believe myself if I were listening to this.  
_

Mike glared at him. "I don't get it."

"In her dreams, she's being attacked. While it happens, the injuries appear on her body."

"And you think it's my fault," Mike said angrily, throwing the covers back and coming to tower over the other man.

"You were the one attacking her in the dream," Henry explained, his voice constricted.

Mike stared at him. "What?"

"You heard what I said."

After a moment, Mike turned away and began pacing the room, his eyes darting back to Henry every few seconds.

"Is she alright?" he asked after a while.

"She's bruised and has a black eye, but other than that, yes, I think she's fine."

"Does she need someone to keep an eye on her today?"

"No. I told her not to let you in."

Mike began to protest, but Henry held up a hand.

"We didn't know, Detective. Better safe than sorry."

Mike understood, but he hated Henry for, once again, managing to shut Vicki out of his life for another day.

"I have to go," Henry said, glancing at the clock. "Don't try to see her. Come over tonight, after I've talked to her."

"I don't answer to you," Mike said forcefully, already reaching for his coat.

"No, but I'd advise against going to see her. I told her to use force if necessary."

As much as Mike resented Henry for this entire load of bullshit, what he hated even more was the fact that he understood why he had done it. In his own twisted way, he was trying to protect her, and if Mike wasn't always able to, at least someone was watching over her.

"Fine," he said after a pause. "Just…. Fine. Whatever. I'll just call her instead."

Henry nodded. He couldn't keep him from trying.

The two exchanged a look, and then Henry was gone.

"God damnit," Mike muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Vicki watched her phone vibrate across the coffee table and drop unceremoniously to the floor.

"Go away, Mike," she muttered, staring at the name that glared back at her from the illuminated screen.

The vibrating stopped momentarily, then began again. It had been repeating this pattern all morning, and Vicki was quickly loosing her patience. Five rings later she snatched the phone off the floor and put it to her ear.

"I can't talk right now, Mike, I-"

"Vicki?" The voice sounded unfamiliar. "Uh, hi. It's Nathan. Is this a bad time?"

Vicki pulled the phone away to squint down at the caller I.D. Nathan's name scrolled across the screen, and she let out a breath, her anger draining along with it.

"Hi Nathan," she said, putting the device back to her ear. "How's it going?"

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "If this is a bad time-"

"No, no, everything's fine. I just thought you were someone else, that's all."

He didn't question her, and soon she could hear the smile in his voice return.

"Oh, okay. Well, good. I'm glad everything's fine." He cleared his throat. "Listen, I know this is short notice, but I was wondering if you had any plans tonight."

_You mean besides staying cooped up in my office? Nope.  
_

"Um, I'm not really sure yet. Why?"

"Well, I have tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera, front row seats and everything, and my sister bailed on me. I was wondering if you'd be interested in accompanying me."

"You don't want to ask your mom?" Vicki asked, feigning disinterest.

Nathan answered with mock gravity, "My mother hates theater."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Vicki's lips, and she found herself saying, "Sure, I'd love to."

"Great. Show starts at eight, so I'll pick you up around six. We can grab a bite to eat before hand, traffic permitting."

"Sounds good. I'll see you in a bit," Vicki said, hanging up and hugging her knees to her chest, a girly smile spreading across her features, the horrors of the previous night vanishing into thin air. There was something about Nathan that she couldn't put her finger on, but whatever it was, it made her forget all about Henry and Mike and the horrors of her day.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly four now; she would need at least an hour and forty-five minutes to get ready, so she hurried upstairs to shower, her phone still vibrating its way across the area rug.

* * *

Truth be told, Henry Fitzroy hated spring. He especially hated summer, when darkness didn't manifest until well into the night. April meant sunset came around seven, and he wasn't surprised to find Mike Celluci leaning against the hood of his car when he arrived at Vicki's office fifteen minutes later. 

"Did you talk to her at all?" He asked, bypassing the detective and making his way up the front steps.

"She wouldn't answer," Mike said tightly.

Henry had expected that; it seemed, however, that Mike had not, and now he was angry with him for telling Vicki to stay away.

The door opened as if by magic under the vampire's touch, and the two men stepped inside the front hall, expecting to hear footsteps and Vicki's traditional greeting of 'Don't either of you know how to knock?' As silence greeted them, the two exchanged worried glances.

"Vicki?"

Mike shoved his way past Henry and peered into the office.

"Empty," he muttered.

"Kitchen, too."

Mike did a quick sweep of the upstairs, Henry the main level, both turning up nothing.

Standing side by side, bonded momentarily by their concern for Vicki's wellbeing, the two heaved an identical sigh of frustration.

"Where could she have gone?" Mike asked no one in particular.

Henry tried to focus on her scent, but he couldn't find her. The link he often sensed between the two of them, the one that allowed him to know, for the most part, where she was at all times, was nowhere to be found.

"I don't think she's in the city," he said quietly.

"What do you mean she's not in the city?" Mike yelled, whirling on him. "You're the bloodhound, why can't you find her?"

"She's too far away," Henry explained patiently, though his worry had increased tenfold.

Mike pointed at his nose, eyes narrowed. "What's the range on this thing?"

Henry shook his head in frustration. "Never mind that. What we need to do is find her. Soon."

"You think?!" Mike was pacing, his fingers dialing Vicki's number from memory.

"Vicki, where are you? Call me when you get this."

Henry had to admit, while all of Mike's messages left something to be desired, they were quick and to the point. His, if he were to be so bold, were at least a tiny bit better.

"Vicki, I'm worried about you. I can't sense where you are right now. Call me as soon as you can."

The two men stood in the darkening room, arms akimbo, faces stretched tight with worry.

"Now what?" Mike asked.

"Now we wait."

* * *

It was intermission, and Vicki had excused herself to go to the restroom, Nathan offering to get her a water for the second act. She had gratefully accepted and had rushed to join the long line outside the ladies room. Her purse had been vibrating all evening, and when she pulled it out she wasn't surprised to see the message displayed on the screen: 42 missed calls. 

"Damn it," she muttered.

The older woman standing in front of her turned around and shot her an evil look.

"Sorry," Vicki said sheepishly.

She scrolled through her missed calls, three from Henry, the rest, no doubt, from a certain detective.

"I knew I forgot something."

She had been scrambling to find a pad of paper when Nathan arrived. Needless to say, the idea of leaving Henry and Mike a note had escaped her mind.

There was still time to call her office and let the guys know she was alright before intermission was over, but a stall opened up and she shoved the phone back in her purse.

Henry and Mike could wait.

* * *

Mike was pacing again, annoyed by Henry's cool resolve. The vampire had seated himself on the worn victorian sofa and was watching the detective wear a hole through the floor, a mild look of amusement on his face. 

"I'm sure she's fine," he lied easily.

Mike shot him a look. "She didn't leave a note and she hasn't called. You still think she's fine? Especially after all this nightmare crap?"

Henry gritted his teeth. Mike knew how to press his buttons, as it were, and he was not appreciative.

"She can't be sleeping," Henry pointed out. "If she were, she would be here."

"As if she couldn't be sleeping somewhere else."

"Where else would she go?"

Mike threw up his hands. "God only knows, Fitzroy. I'm not her keeper!"

"Really. By the looks of it, I would say it's become your job title as of late."

"And you're what? Her nanny? Tucking her in every night, telling her bedtime stories?"

"She hasn't asked for any yet," Henry replied innocently.

"What kind of stories could you tell her, anyway?" Mike muttered. "Probably just gruesome tales of how you kill people for fun."

At that moment, Henry was thinking it would be fun to antagonize the detective by appearing at his side and wrapping a hand threateningly around his neck, but decided against it.

"You know what?" Mike said after a long pause. "This waiting is bullshit. Why are we still here?"

"Because we have no idea where she could be." Henry gestured out the window. "She could be a million other places; how are we to decide which one?"

"We take a guess and go with it," Mike snapped. "One of us needs to stay here in case she comes back."

"Excellent idea. Have an enjoyable evening, Detective," Henry said politely, heading towards the door.

Mike jumped up. "I meant for _you _ to stay, Fitzroy."

Henry smirked. "Since I'm the bloodhound," he sniffed, "My nose is the one we'll be trusting."

"I'm not going to sit around all night," Mike said, already halfway down the front steps.

"And you expect me to?"

"Yes!" Mike yelled, causing passersby to jump in surprise.

"You really are a piece of work," Henry noted, closing the door behind him.

Mike glared at him.

"Really? How's that, sport?"

"You have got to be one of the most arrogant men I have met this century," Henry reported, pulling out his car keys and sliding into the drivers seat.

"And you're so humble," Celluci mocked him. "Right."

"Try and keep up," Henry challenged, closing the car door in Mike's face.

An engine revved, and Mike jumped back as the jaguar sped away into the night.

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

Nathan was laughing pleasantly as the two exited the theater, milling about the lobby as they waited for the crowd to clear out. 

"I can't believe he tripped," he grinned, referencing the actor playing Raoul. "Talk about unfortunate."

Vicki couldn't contain herself. "That's an understatement. He nearly fell off the stage! Talk about some fancy footwork."

As the crowd parted, she saw Nathan's gaze focus on something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and groaned.

"You have _got _ to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath.

"Do you know those two?" Nathan asked of the approaching figures.

"Unfortunately."

"Vicki! Where the hell have you been?" Mike asked, his voice unnecessarily loud in the cavernous room.

"Obviously I've been here all night. Hi Mike, nice to see you, too."

Nathan's eyes darted from one man to the other, over to Vicki, then back to the taller one who had just spoken.

"Hi," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Nathan."

Mike glared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mike accused, gesturing to Vicki.

Nathan looked confused.

"Uh, well, we _were _ on a date."

He had a feeling the evening was over.

Vicki's face was turning pink, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She looked reproachfully in Henry's direction, but he merely shrugged. He was going to let Mike crucify himself.

"Date's over," Mike said forcefully, placing a protective arm around Vicki's shoulder, which she tried to shrug off.

"Mike, knock it off," she said, her voice low, eyes glinting with barely-contained anger.

"You didn't even leave a note!" He shouted. "How was I supposed to know you were okay? You don't answer my calls, you don't even answer his," he hissed, pointing at Henry.

"Mike, you're making a scene," Vicki said, trying to remain calm.

Nathan was watching the commotion with interest, his eyes focused not on the taller man at the center of its chaos, but the one behind him who had said nothing as of yet. His eyes bored holes through Nathan's chest, and he felt as if the shorter man suddenly knew everything about him, and was somewhat unsettled. Also, he seemed to be enjoying the racket the taller one was making a great deal.

"Mike, seriously. Go home."

"No, Vic. No," he fumed. "Go get in the car."

Vicki raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Get. In. The. Car."

Vicki could see this evening would not end on a pleasant note, and regrettably turned to Nathan.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sounds good. We can set something else up."

"There won't be any more dates," Mike interrupted rather rudely.

Vicki shot him a look.

"Great. I'll talk to you."

She allowed Nathan to plant a kiss on her cheek before letting herself be dragged outside, Mike's rough hand wrapped around her upper arm.

"Ouch," she grunted, once seated in the back of his sedan. "What the hell was that?"

"I've been worried sick about you, Vicki!"

"Yeah, well, you've got a funny way of showing it," she snapped. "You interrupted my date, Mike! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Why were you even _on _ a date?" Mike asked, his voice rising. "I thought you had your hands full."

"Did it ever occur to you," Vicki said stiffly, "that maybe I'm sick of you, Mike?"

"But you're not sick of Henry."

"He wasn't the one yelling at me inside of a theater full of people!"

"Vicki, you don't even know this guy. He could be a real skeez."

Vicki snorted. "Skeez? Is that the police vernacular they're preaching these days? Get a grip, Mike. Nathan's a nice guy."

"Does he do drugs?"

"What?!" Vicki spluttered. "How should I know? I've only seen him twice. And I don't think he's going to reveal his deepest, darkest secrets so soon."

"This isn't a joke, Vicki."

"Who's laughing?" she pressed. "What're you talking about, Mike? What's gotten into you?"

Rarely had she seen him this angry, and, frankly, it was a bit frightening.

She was thankful when the sedan pulled up in front of her office, Henry already waiting for them. She clambered out of the car, hurrying up the steps and unlocking the front door. She thought about asking Henry to stop Mike from following her, but didn't feel much like dragging him into this. He didn't need to face Mike's rage, too.

"Vicki," Mike called, slamming the door behind him. "Vicki, we're not done. Get back down here."

"Mike, what the hell are you yelling about?" Vicki yelled back, whirling around on the stairs to face him head-on. "Huh? This isn't about the date, is it?"

Mike stared blankly back at her.

"That's what I thought."

She could hear Henry moving about downstairs, thankful he hadn't tried to involve himself in this.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is about, or what?" she pressed, arms folded across her chest.

Mike took a deep breath, a small step towards sanity.

His voice was husky when he spoke, emotion dripping from every word.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

Mike gestured around himself at nothing. "This. Everything. The supernatural shit, Fitzroy, and now this Nathan guy?"

Vicki could hear the pain in his voice and it gripped her heart. She reached out and massaged his arm lightly.

"I'm not doing this to hurt you," she said quietly. "But I need a change, Mike."

"Why? We're perfect for each other. You _know _ that."

Vicki _did _know, and better than Mike thought. She had lain awake many a night, wondering what would become of her, should she choose one man over the other. On one hand, if she chose Henry, she would be giving up on tradition and logic, but gaining eternity, one she could spend with someone she knew would never die; on the other, if she chose Mike, she was sealing a fate that would one day end, regardless of how pleasant her life with him could be.

"How long is it going to take you to figure out what you want?" he sighed.

"Honestly, maybe a lifetime," Vicki replied. "I don't know."

"Well, hurry up and make up your damn mind, Vicki, because I'm going crazy waiting for you."

Vicki watched as Henry moved from the office to the kitchen, her mouth twitching at the corners.

_But what if I don't choose you, Mike? What would you do then? _

Mike saw the look on her face, his anger back as easily as it had gone.

"Do I even have a chance?" he hissed with vehemence.

Vicki blinked. "What?"

"I see the way you look at him," he whispered dangerously. "What do you see in him, anyway?"

"What do I see? I see a man who doesn't make a scene when I go out with another guy, who doesn't happen to talk about you nonstop whenever we're together, who makes an effort to be straight with me, and who honestly cares about me."

"Really? Because all I see is an overbearing kiss-ass who just wants to get in your pants."

The air hissed as Vicki backhanded him. Hard.

"Get out," she yelled, pointing towards the door.

Mike rubbed his jaw, taken aback by the strength of her hit. He didn't budge, however.

"Didn't you hear me, Mike? I said get out!"

"No."

Vicki blinked. "No?"

"No." He pointed to Henry, who had appeared in the hallway when the screaming began. "Tell _him _ to leave."

"And why should I do that?" Vicki asked angrily. "So you can yell at me in private?"

"So we can talk about this."

Vicki's eyebrows disappeared behind her bang. "I'm through talking to you, Mike. Call me when you grow a conscience."

She grabbed her bag and pounded up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Mike fumed, catching Henry's eye.

"What're you staring at, you son of a bitch?"

Henry merely shrugged. "You just made a huge mistake."

"Shut up," Mike hissed, glancing at the bedroom door one last time. He heard the lock click.

"Fine," he shouted. "I'm leaving. Have fun screwing your vampire."

"Screw you," Vicki screamed back.

Henry heard something heavy collide with the bedroom door just as Mike slammed the front door on his way out.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Nathan sat before a blank television screen, staring mindlessly into space. 

_What a night.  
_

The whole evening had been strange, if he had to be honest. When Vicki had opened the door to greet him, the first thing he had noticed was the large bruise around her neck, and a shining black eye staring back at him.

"Are you okay?" he'd asked, concerned.

She'd smiled, innocently enough. "I had a run-in with a set of stairs."

Nathan had taken her words at face value, believing her lie wholeheartedly.

"Looks painful," he'd said, reaching out and gently touching the bruise beneath her eye.

"Nah, it's fine," Vicki had assured him, wrapping her arms around his. "We'd better get going."

Nathan had obliged, and he hadn't brought up her bruises for the rest of the evening.

But when the two men had shown up at the theater, the taller one (_What was his name? Mike_?) threatening her, he had begun to wonder. When they'd first met, back in the bar, she had said she was hiding from someone. Could this have been him?

Nathan hadn't been scared off by Mike's threats; In fact, he was more determined than ever to try and make things work with Vicki. He wasn't sure what role Mike played in her life, but Nathan had a feeling he had overstayed his welcome.

* * *

"Vicki, open the door," Henry cajoled, leaning his head against the wall and sighing. 

It had been nearly an hour since Mike had stormed out, and Vicki still hadn't said a word, though the occasional _thud _ could be heard every few minutes as something collided with a wall. Henry had been sitting outside the door, trying to talk her into coming out, but had instead ended up having a one-sided conversation with himself.

Finally he heard footsteps and the click of a lock. The door opened, and he let himself in, raising an eyebrow. Vicki sat in the middle of the bed, her eyes bloodshot. Men's clothing was scattered about the floor, a picture frame shattered in the corner.

"Doing a little spring cleaning?" he asked lightly, taking a seat beside her.

"It's all Mike's," she sniffed, gesturing to the mess.

"That's kind of a big step," Henry pointed out.

Inside, his heart leapt, but he had a feeling her anger with Mike wouldn't last long, regardless of the things he'd said earlier.

"I can't stand him, Henry. He's turned into this overprotective crazy person, and it's making _me _ crazy."

She glanced sideways at him.

"Why didn't you try and stop him tonight?"

"You mean at the theater?"

She nodded.

"If I had interrupted, you'd be sitting here, by yourself, mad at me, too."

"I guess."

"You guess?"

Henry reached out a hand, turning her face so she was forced to look at him.

"You can't afford to push everyone away right now," he whispered.

Vicki tilted her head so it rested against his hand, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I don't need-"

Henry leaned in, the rest of her sentence lost on his lips.

She pulled away after a moment, absentmindedly tracing a vein in his neck with one pale, slender finger.

"What am I supposed to do, Henry?" she asked, her mind obviously on other things.

Henry took a deep breath and pushed his hair off his face.

"Wait until he calms down, I guess."

Vicki's body grew tense.

"Not about Mike. About the dreams."

_The dreams. Right. God forbid we talk about anything normal.  
_

"I wish I knew," he said, his voice quiet, filled with something Vicki likened to feelings of helplessness.

She laced her fingers through his. She took a deep breath, ready to test the waters. She had told Henry she trusted him, but admitting fear was on an entirely different level in Vicki's mind.

"I'm scared, Henry."

He stared at her in surprise, certain he had misheard her.

"I'm afraid to sleep at night, I'm afraid to even close my eyes. I'm exhausted."

She looked it. The circles under her eyes had darkened considerably; even the black eye couldn't mask it. However ambivalent Henry pretended to be, he was worried.

Reaching over, he brushed the hair off her neck and smiled.

"I know you're scared," he said soothingly, "But I'm not going anywhere. I have no idea what's going on in here," he added, massaging her temples lightly, "but we'll figure it out."

He brushed his lips against hers then, and felt her smile.

"And I'm sorry. About Mike."

Vicki shrugged.

"He's been acting weird for the past year. I guess I knew it was coming."

"Still," Henry said sympathetically, "it's hard to lose someone. Especially when you have a history."

"You would know."

Henry merely nodded. Certainly he had lived and lost, but nothing compared to the pain he would feel should these nightmares destroy the woman who's body heat he could feel from only inches away.

Her breathing was measured, her lashes brushing against her cheek every so often. Her skin was perfect, and he loved the way she felt in his arms as they lay awake at night, the quiet sounds of breathing the only signs of life in the room. He loved to watch her sleep, hair fanned across the pillow, the tension she so often carried with her gone. He was enamored with her very being, and if he lost her…

Vicki watched the emotions flicker across his defined features and wondered what he was thinking.

"Hey," she said, touching his arm.

He looked at her then, his gaze intense.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

He was still for a moment, then smiled sheepishly and shook his head, mask firmly in place.

"Nothing," he said, pulling her to him, cupping the back of her head with one hand, the other resting lightly against the small of her back. He felt her nestle her head against his shoulder, and he leaned against the headboard as she curled against him; he loved how their bodies seemed to meld together in unguarded moments like these.

His fingers toyed with a strand of her hair, and he watched as she shifted her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position. It was then that he noticed she was still wearing the dress she had worn on her date with Nathan.

"I forgot to tell you," he whispered in her ear, "that you look beautiful tonight."

She had put on a purple satin dress for the occasion, the very one Mike had hung in the closet only a few nights ago. The straps were thin and connected to the delicate lace lining her bosom. The dress hung just below her knees and flared at the bottom so that it whispered softly as she walked. A simple chain hung about her neck, a lone pearl dangling from the bottom; Henry had given it to her at Christmas.

He felt her cheeks grow warm.

"Vicki Nelson, blushing? I didn't know you were capable of such things," he teased.

He half-expected her to reply with one of her witty comebacks, but she merely stifled a yawn and let her head sink further into her pillow.

Henry watched as her eyelids grew heavy, the tension slowly leaving her body. He had thought she would've at least changed before falling asleep, but it was apparent Vicki didn't care about wrinkling an expensive dress. He wasn't surprised.

It was an odd scene, the two of them. Henry was hunched against the headboard, one arm resting comfortably behind his head, the other tangled in a mass of blonde hair. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair a mane of wavy brown curls. In contrast, Vicki lay atop the covers, purple satin brushing against his leg, hair curled, heels on, her body pressed against his. She had fallen asleep with her glasses on, and Henry gently slid them off, setting them on the bedside table.

He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time; it was only midnight. He prayed the night would be full of silence, and that the woman resting beside him would know nothing but dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Darkness enveloped Vicki like a glove. She couldn't see more than a foot in front of her, but she was afraid that if she stayed rooted to where she was, she wouldn't be safe for long. _

_Footsteps echoed around her, and she shivered._

_"Who's there?" she called out tentatively._

_There was no response but for heavy breathing coming from somewhere to her left._

_She held out her hands and took a step forward, her fingers brushing against something, or someone, completely solid._

_As quickly as she had found solace in the tangible, whatever it was she had touched vanished, and she clutched desperately at thin air. _

_Slowly, the figure before her grew illuminated, and she sucked in a breath._

_Mike stood facing her, gun level with her chest._

_"Hi Vicki," he cooed, closing the distance between them. "What's the matter? Cat caught your tongue?"_

_"Mike, you don't want to do this," Vicki said, slowly backing away._

_"Really? See, I figure, since you blew holes in my heart when you started sleeping with a vampire, that it would only be fair for me to do the same to you."_

_Vicki's eyes were locked on the gun, and she swallowed, her breath catching dangerously in her throat._

_Mike smiled calmly at her, seemingly delighted with the look of terror on her face._

_"Mike, please," she begged, watching the gun come closer and closer, until she was backed up against a wall and could no longer dodge its barrel. She couldn't think of anything to do but scream._

_She opened her mouth, just barely forming the words to call for help, when something exploded inside her chest. Her eyes grew wide as she stared into the barrel of a smoking gun, held in the firm grasp of Mike Celluci's hand. She could feel a warm liquid seeping through her clothes, and as she glanced down, she heard a familiar voice call out to her._

_"Vicki…. Vicki…."  
_

"Vicki! Vicki? Oh my god… SHIT!"

Her eyes flew open as she choked on air, eyes darting back and forth. Henry's hands cupped her face, his eyes full of a fear he had never known.

"Vicki?"

His face swam in and out of focus, her head spinning.

He saw her lips part, watched as she attempted to form words.

"Vicki, was it Mike? Vicki, who did this?"

"Shot me," she murmured.

"Who shot you, Vicki?"

"M…"

"Mike? Did Mike do this?"

"It's not his fault, Henry," she said hoarsely.

She could feel her chest constricting and tried desperately to take a breath.

"I-"

"Shhh," Henry ordered, putting a finger to her lips. "Don't try to talk. I'm going to call for help. Don't go anywhere."

"Where would I go?" she rasped.

Henry shot her a look as he dialed 911.

His hands were covered in blood, and he searched helplessly for something to cauterize the wound. He would have used his own saliva, knowing it had worked in the past, but this was a situation entirely different; He didn't have bite marks alone to heal this time.

What seemed like hours had passed, when in actuality it had been less than five minutes. Henry could feel Vicki's life waning, and fought desperately for composure. He had called the paramedics, and sirens could be heard in the distance, though he feared they would be too late.

"Vicki," he called, turning her head so she could look at him, "the ambulance is almost here, okay? You just have to hold on for a few more minutes. Can you do that for me?"

Her breathing was shallow, but he saw her lips form a trace of smile.

"I thought…. bloodsuckers could fix…. minor wounds like this," she choked out.

"Not funny, Vicki. Stop it," Henry pleaded.

_Even when she's dying she has to joke! God, I could kill her.  
_

The siren's wails grew louder, and Henry heard the front door slam open as the paramedics raced up the stairs.

Commotion ensued, and Henry moved into the shadows, watching as the paramedics ripped open Vicki's dress, shouting statistics about bullet size, heart rate and other medical jargon Henry could never even begin to understand. Had he been capable of sweating, his palms would have been beyond sticky.

He answered every question thrown at him, and when Vicki was placed in the back of the ambulance, he climbed in beside her, gripping her hand tightly in both his own.

Her eyes were glazed over, but she turned her head, even in her delirium, to stare him, though her eyes showed no recognition. His throat was dry, and he could hardly swallow. Only a few minutes ago she had joked with him about his vampire tendencies, and now she didn't even know who he was.

Sweat beaded her forehead, and she wheezed into the oxygen mask, eyes rolling into the back of her head as the heart monitor flatlined.

"She's going into cardiac arrest!" someone shouted.

_Oh god. Don't let her die. Don't let her die! _

"Charge to two hundred!"

_Come on, come on...  
_

Electric currents shook Vicki's body, and slowly the _blip, blip, blip _ of the monitor came back.

Henry realized he'd been holding his breath the entire time and slowly let it out, leaning back against the van's wall and closing his eyes.

_I almost lost her. I… I almost…. She could have died. She almost died. And I couldn't help her.  
_

His mind raced, matching the quickening pace of his heart.

The doors opened and both paramedics jumped out, pulling the stretcher with them.

"This is as far as you can go," one of them shouted back at him.

Henry watched as Vicki was wheeled away, disappearing behind the swinging doors of the E.R.

He stared up at the large building before him. He had never been to this hospital, nor to any other, in more than a century. Hospitals smelled of death, a scent Henry was not particularly fond of. There was blood everywhere, and places like this often made him hungry.

Not tonight. Tonight there was something bigger weighing on his mind, even the slightest hunger pangs going unnoticed. He raced through the halls, searching desperately for the E.R. waiting room. It was empty, save for an old woman seated in a corner, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Henry took a seat near the door and pulled out his phone. He left a message on Mike's machine, then leaned back in his chair to wait.

* * *

"Where is she?" Mike asked in a rush, striding into the waiting room, trench billowing out behind him. 

"She's still in surgery," Henry said, his voice strained.

Mike stared at him and was surprised to see signs of exhaustion.

_Almost like a regular human being.  
_

"She's not-"

Henry shook his head. "I'd know."

"Right." Mike leaned against the wall, unsure of what to say.

"What happened?" he asked after a long pause.

"She had another nightmare."

"I know that, Fitzroy," Mike said tiredly. "What happened in it this time?"

"You shot her." It was a simple answer.

Mike closed his eyes, obviously pained.

"My god… I don't know what I'll do if… What if I can't apologize for the things I said tonight?"

His eyes were troubled, and Henry felt pity for the detective. Still, he was wary.

The two sat in awkward silence for some time, until an older gentleman in scrubs knocked on the doorframe and stepped into the room.

"I'm Dr. Larson. Are either of you here for Victoria Nelson?"

"We both are," Henry said, rising from his chair.

"How is she?" Mike asked hastily.

The doctor smiled kindly.

"She's going to be alright. The bullet missed her heart by about a millimeter. Ms. Nelson is one lucky woman."

Mike breathed a sigh of relief, while Henry's grip on his phone loosened considerably.

"I understand you are both good friends of Ms. Nelson's?"

They both nodded.

"Well, visiting hours are over for today," the doctor informed them, "but you are more than welcome to drop by tomorrow morning."

Mike cast a sidelong glance at Fitzroy, whose face was emotionless. For a moment he felt bad for the vampire standing beside him, for he would have to wait nearly twelve more hours to see Vicki; daylight was fast approaching.

"I'll be going," Dr. Larson said after neither of the men made any movement towards the door.

Mike nodded his thanks, Henry's back to the door, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

When the doctor had gone, Mike turned to him.

"What do you plan on doing for the next ten hours?"

Henry shrugged.

"Is it any of your business?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I really think you should stay."

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"That's not going to work, Detective, and you know it."

"There aren't any windows in the ICU," Mike said quickly. "I thought you just couldn't see daylight."

"I have to sleep. Otherwise I won't be of any help tomorrow when she needs me."

"Right. I didn't expect you to stick around, anyway," Mike muttered.

"Look, I wish I could stay. I really do. But I can't. My body doesn't allow me to stay awake during daylight."

"Oh."

"Keep an eye on her, alright? I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mike watched Henry leave, and after a moment, knowing he might regret it later, stuck his head out into the hall.

"Fitzroy."

Henry turned around, though he kept walking.

"Thanks for being there tonight."

Henry could finish the rest of Mike's sentence in her head: A_nd for not turning her into a freak like you, even if it meant life or death.  
_

He nodded once, deliberately, and bowed.

"I do my best."

Alone in the waiting room, Mike landed hard on a comfortable-looking black leather couch. He propped his feet up and closed his eyes, running through the night in his mind.

He still felt justified in everything he had said, but he would at least apologize once Vicki awoke; He _had _been a little harsh when it came to her relationship with Henry.

Speaking of which, Mike wondered where Henry had gone. There was not enough time for him to get home, and the hospital was brightly lit with skylights and large windows; he had nowhere to go.

He hated that his last thoughts before falling asleep were of their vampire friend.

* * *

Somewhere, beneath the hospital's main floor, in the chilly subterranean atmosphere of an unused basement, a vampire slept.

* * *

Vicki awoke to the steady _blip, blip, blip _of the machines surrounding her bed. The room was bathed in the glaring sunlight that cascaded through the open blinds, and she squinted painfully as her head began to pound. 

Mike noticed the small movement and quickly drew the curtains before perching himself on the edge of her bed.

"Hey you," he smiled, his voice hoarse. His hair was matted from where he had lain on it all night, and his eyes were somewhat bloodshot.

Vicki wondered how much sleep he had gotten.

"What time is it?"

"Almost three. You slept most of the day," he told her, reaching out and touching her cheek. He withdrew when she turned away. "The doctor says that's a good sign."

The two sat in silence, Mike wondering why Vicki was still pulling away, Vicki wishing Mike would just _go _ away.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while. "About what I said last night."

Vicki shot him a look before returning her glassy stare to the wall.

"Don't patronize me, Mike. You meant every word of it. I know it wasn't you who shot me, but you might as well have."

She was right. Mike _had _ meant what he said, but he had almost lost her. He would let it go if she would. It seemed, however, that she wasn't about to give in, even after her near brush with death.

"I'm not going to approve of him, Vicki. You know that."

"I don't need your approval," she grunted, her chest aching.

"Vicki," Mike muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.

"Just go away," she whispered, knuckles white as she gripped the blankets.

Mike stared at her reproachfully.

"I mean it, Mike. I'll call a nurse if I have to."

Mike knew she wasn't playing around. He would wait outside all night if he had to, but eventually he would make her listen. He would apologize a million times, if that's what it took. But, regardless of the fact that Henry had pretty much saved her life, he would never like him. And he would never forgive her for involving herself in something so inhuman as Henry Fitzroy.

* * *

Henry rubbed satin strands of blonde between two fingers, watching the steady rise and fall of Vicki's chest as she slept. He had spent the day inside a musty, unused broom closet, and he could feel the grime seeping into his pores. 

_ I probably don't smell so great, either.  
_

As if reading her thoughts, he saw Vicki's nose twitch. Slowly her gaze focused on his face, and Henry smiled.

"Hi," he whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead.

Her skin was cool to the touch, not unlike his own, and it surprised him. He was used to the warmth she had so often supplied him with; this woman lying beside him was fragile and in pain, hooked up to machines he did not know, and paler than himself. Her eyes seemed to have recessed into their sockets from lack of sleep, and her hair lacked its usual luster. She wheezed every time she drew in a breath, and her sensitive eyes required the room to be only dimly lit by a lone, hardly of any use, bedside lamp. The skin around her eyes was pulled tight, and Henry wondered if this was just temporary, or if she would look this haunted for the rest of her life.

Vicki stared at him, her features softening as she smiled.

"Hey."

"How're you feeling?" Henry asked, trying to sound cheerful. He had never been very good at it.

"Never better," she grunted, adjusting her pillow so that she could sit upright. She didn't care that the nurses had told her not to.

As she sat eye-level with Henry, she was surprised to see that his eyes were wet, a tear collecting in the corner. She reached out and brushed it away, letting her fingers become tangled in his hair. She had never seen Henry cry, let alone show any significant form of an emotion. She had always known when he was sad or angry, happy or pissed off, but he wore his mask well. In this moment he was unguarded, and she swallowed the rising lump in her throat.

He caught her hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

"I didn't know you knew how to cry," she said, her voice a whisper in the stillness surrounding them.

With his other hand, Henry swiped at his other eye and tried to regulate his voice so she wouldn't hear the tremor.

"Me either. I haven't cried since I was seventeen."

Such a declaration surprised her. She knew that horrible things had happened in Henry's life, and if this was the first time he had even shed a tear in more than four centuries…

"I almost lost you," he said, scrambling for words. "I don't know what I would have done if I had."

Vicki felt herself growing emotional and tried to suppress it. She hated how he could do this to her.

"I'm sure you would have found someone less stupid than me to go solve crimes with," she joked.

Henry gave her a look.

"I've lived long enough."

Vicki swallowed. "Yeah, well, you've got forever in front of you. Maybe a century from now you'll get to run around in shiny space suits and ride on hoverboards."

"Why do you have to laugh your way through everything?" Henry asked, his voice pained. "This is serious, Vicki. You almost died. Who knows what's going to happen next time?"

"I'm trying not to think about that," she said, her throat tight.

"How can you pretend like nothing's happened? You're hooked up to a heart monitor, Vicki. Your chest is sewn shut, and you're cracking jokes."

Vicki could feel the stitches as they clung to her thin hospital gown. Her head pounded and her chest ached, but she didn't want to be alone.

She plucked at the frayed edges of the blanket and tried to smile.

"Don't worry about me, Henry. I'll just survive on coffee for the rest of my life. Sleep is overrated, anyway."

"Stop it!" Henry cried, jumping off the bed and throwing up his arms in frustration. She just didn't know when to quit.

Vicki blinked in surprise. Henry never let himself go unguarded for so long, and she was starting to worry.

_Maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut,_ she chastised herself. _Oh well. Too late now.  
_

"I'm sorry," she apologized, staring at Henry's back, every muscle knotted with tension. "I can't help it."

Henry turned to look back at her, his eyes filled with worry.

"You just don't get it," he muttered. "You could be dying, Vicki, and I can't help you. Mike can't help you. We don't know where to even begin searching for answers."

He took a seat beside her and gripped her hand tightly.

"If you die-"

"I won't-"

"-then I'm done."

"Don't say-"

"I'll wait for daylight-"

"Henry, stop being so morbi-"

"-and let it take me."

"Shut up!" Vicki exclaimed, her chest throbbing. "Stop it! This is crazy, Henry." She clutched at her gown, trying to take deep breaths. "T-that's not funny."

"I'm not joking."

"I'm not either," she replied, her eyes growing dewy.

She swiped angrily at her tears. "Damn it."

"Do you want me to get a nurse?"

"No." She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. She took a long, shuddering breath, and leaned back into her pillow. "I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"You know, normal people would have asked for help by now."

"I'm _fine._"

"You're in pain."

"I've been in pain before, Henry. It passes."

"Maybe, but you've never been shot before!"

"Really? I must've forgotten to tell you about that 'brief' time in my life that I was a cop." Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead, her skin growing clammy. "I've been shot before."

That gave Henry pause. He had thought he knew her well enough, but apparently he was wrong.

_What a great way to find out about her past. She might be dying and _now_ she decides to tell me about her time on the force. Great timing, Vicki.  
_

"I was chasing some piece of scum down an alley and he disappeared. I thought I'd lost him, so I sent Mike to check the next street over. The next thing I know, I hear a popping sound and I'm plastered against a brick wall, bleeding."

"Let me guess – you chased after him anyway."

"Well, I wasn't dying. I couldn't let him get away."

_Somehow I have a feeling wild horses couldn't have stopped you, _he added silently.

Henry leaned in to place his forehead against hers.

"I know you think you can take care of yourself," he said, his voice rich and full of understanding, "but you can't always rely on yourself alone. Sometimes it takes a bigger person to admit they need help."

Vicki could feel his cool breath against her cheek, and her eyes locked on his. Deep down, she knew he was right, but that didn't make admitting defeat any easier.

"I've told you a hundred times, Vicki, and I'll say it a hundred more if it means you'll listen: I am not going anywhere. I may not be able to be with you during the day, but I'll watch over your dreams at night. I'll find an answer to this whole thing, even if it means starting from absolutely nowhere. But I'm not going to let you die. Not while I'm still alive."

_Or as alive as one can be when they're… _He wasn't completely sure how to finish his own thought.

"Now, you need some more pain medication and some sleep, so I'm going to go get a nurse and let you rest, alright? I'll be back to watch over you in a while; I have some things I need to do first. Mike's outside if you need anything."

"I definitely don't want to see him."

It was whispered so quietly Henry might have missed it, had he less sensitive ears.

"Safe dreams," he breathed.

Vicki thought maybe he'd misspoken, but later decided perhaps he had known what he'd said after all.

* * *

A week later, Vicki was lying on the old victorian couch in her office, her sleep dreamless. Henry was spread out in the window seat, his back against the wall, his legs bent slightly to fill the space. Moonlight glistened off the hardwood floor and he smiled to himself as a light breeze blew a curl across his face. 

He was more than thankful Vicki was asleep. She had honestly tried to survive on caffeine, refusing to sleep at night or nap during the day. She had sent Mike and Henry on countless Starbucks runs, and Henry was thankful he had so much money at his disposal, because her habits were expensive.

She looked frail, having forced herself to stay awake for nearly five days, and Henry had begun to worry. At one point, he'd even asked a doctor to induce her sleep, but Vicki had put her foot down on that, too.

Watching her sleep now, he was relieved. She looked peaceful and Henry could see some pink returning to her cheeks. Her hair was damp from the shower she'd taken only an hour ago, and he could feel her body heat from across the room. Yes, relieved would have been an appropriate term for what Henry Fitzroy was feeling.

Swinging his legs over the side of the window seat, he stood and headed upstairs. Vicki's bedroom looked identical to how it had been the last time he'd seen it – the night she was shot. Mike's things littered the floor, and the broken glass in the corner had not been picked up. The sheets were bloody, and Henry recoiled at the memory.

He bent down over the shards of glass and carefully retrieved the picture beneath the frame. It was of Vicki and Mike. The two of them were grinning, arms wrapped around each other, Vicki's head resting against Mike's chest. They were standing on a pier, the sun just beginning to set behind them, leaving the sky a mixture of pale blues and pinks. Henry couldn't recall a time when he had seen them this happy.

_That might have something to do with you,_ the voice said.

Henry knew he was the one to be blamed for their strained relationship, but he held no apologies. Mike was in love with Vicki, but so was he. Mike resented Henry for the night, while Henry resented him for the day. The two of them, Henry had a feeling, would never get along. And he knew it would drive Vicki crazy, but that's just how it was. He didn't particularly dislike Mike, but the detective had never been shy when it came to sharing his opinions of Henry. And Vicki had made it quite clear that she hated it when they fought, so Henry had learned to remain ambivalent. Mike, it seemed, had learned nothing, because it was his clothes strewn about the floor, not Henry's.

Henry went over to the bed and stripped it down to the mattress, then rummaged in the closet for a spare set of sheets. He remade the bed with only sheets, then went in search of a new comforter. He was going through the armoire in Vicki's office when there was a knock at the door. Vicki's eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

"Tell Mike to go away," she muttered.

Henry had a feeling it wasn't Mike. Two nights ago, Vicki had asked him to go to Mike's apartment and take the key for her office so that he would stop barging in unannounced. Henry had almost felt bad as he materialized in the shadows of Mike's living room, making his way into the kitchen. A set of keys lay out on the counter, and it didn't take long to figure out which was the one that went to Vicki's office; her scent was all over it.

"Sorry, Detective," Henry had whispered, then let himself out the front door.

Still, regardless of the fact that Mike would now have to knock should he want to come in, the knocking at the door tonight was not his. Mike's knock, Henry knew, consisted of three quick, even raps, loud enough to wake the dead. These ones were quiet taps, and there had definitely been more than three.

"It isn't Mike," he told her, leaning against the doorframe.

When she didn't say anything, he shrugged and went to the door. When he opened it, an older woman stood there. She had to be at least in her sixties, was tall and lean, her white hair a short bob. Henry couldn't help but think that her features looked strangely familiar.

"Hello," Henry said kindly. "Can I help you?"

The woman offered a hand. "You must be Henry," she said with a smile. "Hello. I'm Marjory Nelson, Vicki's mother. Now, where is my daughter?"

In the other room, he could hear Vicki groan.

* * *

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Vicki asked, propping herself up on the couch. Marjory Nelson had taken up residence on the sofa as well, and she was stroking Vicki's hair nonchalantly. 

"Because, dear, Mike called me yesterday and told me you'd been shot."

Vicki's hand went to her forehead.

"I'm going to kill him," she said to herself, though both Henry and her mother could hear her quite clearly.

"Victoria Nelson, how dare you not tell me!"

"Mom, I'm fine," she said, pulling her knees up, ignoring the throbbing in her chest as her body protested. "You really didn't need to drive all this way to come see me."

"You aren't fine," Marjory argued. "And I didn't drive, I took the train. Pardon my French, dear, but you look like crap."

"Gee, thanks, Mom."

Henry watched the two bicker for a few moments. They were so similar it was almost frightening. Their hand movements were nearly identical, and their faces were almost mirror images. Also, he now knew who Vicki had gotten her hardheadedness from.

Henry was so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed the two women had stopped arguing, and were now staring at him, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry?"

"I was rather rude earlier," the elder Miss Nelson said, rising from her seat on the couch and coming to stand near Henry, "when I just barged in. I apologize."

Henry took her hand in both of his and smiled. "Not at all." He leaned over and kissed the top of her hand, which he found to be surprisingly wrinkled and leathery, not what he would have expected from a woman who had as much spunk, if not more, than her daughter.

Marjory Nelson's cheeks grew pink as Henry dropped her hand.

"I've heard so much about you," Marjory continued. "Vicki says you've been a big help to her. Are you a private investigator as well?"

Henry's lips twitched. "Something like that," he said vaguely.

"Mom, he's a writer," Vicki interjected. "He writes graphic novels."

"What kind of novels?" Marjory looked confused.

"Comic books," Henry explained. "I write and illustrate comic books."

_What Celluci wouldn't give to hear me say that.  
_

"Well! How exciting!" Vicki's mother exclaimed. "A detective _and _an artist." She turned to her daughter. "He's a keeper, darling."

Vicki rolled her eyes; Henry grinned.

At just that moment, another knock sounded at the door. This time it was the predictable _bang, bang, bang _that signified Mike Celluci's arrival.

"Great. It's a fucking family reunion."

Vicki's mother shot her a look.

Before anyone could get up, they heard the door open; Henry had forgotten to lock it after letting Marjory Nelson inside.

"Mike!" the older woman grinned, jumping up to give him a hug. "Thank you so much for calling me yesterday! It was very much appreciated," she added, throwing an accusing look in her daughter's direction.

Vicki pretended not to see it.

"Hey Vic," Mike said, Marjory's hands clutching his arm.

"Hi," she said stiffly.

Marjory looked from one to the other, then at Henry, then back to her daughter.

"Ah."

"You look a lot better," Mike offered.

"As compared to?"

_ Do we really have to do this now?, _Mike asked himself.

"Never mind," he said, shrugging. "I'm just glad you're doing alright."

"No thanks to you," she grunted, pulling herself off the couch, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. "I'm going to bed."

She kissed her mother's cheek. "I'll see you in the morning, Mom."

Awkward silence filled the room as the three watched Vicki shuffle slowly upstairs.

"Well, I see she hasn't changed at all," Marjory said in an attempt at lightness.

_ She's changed more than you'll ever know,_ Mike thought to himself.

Mike glanced down at his watch. "I'd best be going," he said, pulling his keys from his pocket. "It was great to see you, Ms. Nelson."

"You too, Mike."

"How long are you in town for?"

"As long as she lets me stay," Marjory shrugged. "Probably a few days."

"Then I'm sure I'll see you again soon." He gave the older woman a hug, starring daggers into Henry's back.

"Goodnight, dear."

Left alone with Vicki's mother, Henry wasn't entirely sure what to say. He needn't have worried, though, because Vicki's mother had plenty.

"So you're the young man my daughter is seeing?" It was asked innocently enough.

"You could say that," Henry replied, taking a seat on the couch Vicki had just vacated. Marjory Nelson remained leaning against the desk.

She nodded in understanding. "Yes, well, Vicki's very hard to get to know. She doesn't let very many people in, not after her father left."

Henry nodded his agreement. "That's an understatement."

Marjory smiled kindly back at him. "She really likes you, Henry. I can tell."

"I hope so," he said honestly.

"She trusts you. I don't know what's going on between her and Mike anymore, but they were never meant for each other. Don't get me wrong, I adore Mike. He's an honorable man, and he does what he can to look out for my daughter. But he's overprotective and knows how to push her buttons, and that's something Vicki can't stand. You, on the other hand, seem to know how to keep her grounded. I don't know much besides what she's told me, but from what I can tell, she trusts you a great deal, and I appreciate that. She needs a decent man in her life. But," she added threateningly, "prove her wrong, and I'll come after you myself."

Henry didn't doubt it. "I won't," he promised. "The truth is, Miss Nelson, I care a great deal about your daughter, and I would do anything for her. She just…"

"Won't let you," Marjory finished.

Henry nodded.

"That's my daughter, alright." She glanced at the clock. "She isn't coming back down any time soon, so I'm going to check into my hotel. It was lovely meeting you, Henry. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Ms. Nelson," he said, holding the open for her.

With Vicki's mother gone, the building suddenly seemed much quieter. There was no incessant banging on the door, no arguing, no voices at all. In his own apartment, the sound of silence filled every nook and cranny, and it seemed fitting, given the lifestyle he led. However, he was so accustomed to the noise that filled Vicki's apartment that it seemed strange for there to be no voices echoing in the halls. He suddenly felt strangely out of place, and headed upstairs where he knew there was at least a sign of life, regardless of whether or not she was sleeping.

She wasn't.

"Your mother's nice," he commented, bending down to fold one of Mike's shirts, placing it in the growing pile beside the door.

"Yeah."

Henry understood. Vicki loved her mother, he knew that. But with two strong-willed females in such close proximity, it was hard for either one to get in a word edgewise. Bickering seemed to go with the territory. Still, it was obvious the two women cared about each other; they were all either one had.

"She likes you," Vicki said thoughtfully, sitting up in bed.

"So she said."

Vicki snorted, remembering her mother's comment.

Henry opened his mouth to tell her what Marjory Nelson had said in regards to Mike Celluci, but thought better of it. The history between Mike and Vicki went back far longer then he cared to know, and while he hated the feeling of competition Mike imposed on their relationship, he knew Vicki still cared about him in one way or another. Yes, she was mad at him right now, but eventually her anger would subside, and she would let Mike apologize; she didn't need to know that her mother thought Mike had never been a good choice for her only child.

"What?" Vicki asked, seeing the look on his face.

Henry smiled. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're doing alright and that someone's going to be here to look out for you during the day."

"I do _not _ need looking after," Vicki protested.

"Yes, you do."

"I'm an adult, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. But, right now, until we figure this out, somebody has to at least help you take care of yourself. You had me steal Mike's key, so he can't. At least your mother's willing to keep you company while I sleep."

Vicki groaned. "Cooped up with my mother all afternoon? Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"And if you don't get any sleep, you won't be able to keep up with her," Henry pointed out. "Your mother's nice, but she's exhausting."

"You don't know the half of it," Vicki laughed.

Henry held the covers for her to slide under, and lightly kissed the top of her head as he removed her glasses.

"Sweet dreams."

* * *

Somewhere in the city, amongst the flashing neon lights and a dark sky scattered with stars, someone else whispered the same thing. 


	4. Chapter 4

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

A single, lonely figure squinted down at the miniscule, ancient text lying before it. Much of the book had faded with age, but the spells the figure sought were still legible, though it took some effort to translate the twenty-or-so pages needed to complete them. It had been worth it, however, so see the deeds accomplished so completely. The figure had been afraid more strength, more knowledge, more power, would be needed to complete the complex spells, but it seemed it was mistaken.

"An amateur could do this," it said aloud, teeth barred in an ugly grin.

But the figure was no amateur to the world of darkness, magic and incantations. No, the figure was well acquainted with the dark arts. Granted, it had had nearly five hundred years to gather information and learn how to perform many of the spells in the numerous books that littered the room; something like dream inhabitation was child's play.

"Now," a deep voice cooed, "to take care of the competition."

* * *

Vicki lay awake, Henry's presence not far. She could hear his scribbling from where he sat on the window seat, a sketchpad in hand, his eyes occasionally glancing over the edge of it at what he thought was a sleeping model. Vicki didn't want to interrupt his concentration, so she played dead, so to speak, and lay still. 

Around three, the sky still ebony and littered with stars, her cell phone rang. Henry jerked a bit in surprise, while Vicki tried to regain her bearings and reached out a hand for the vibrating phone. She knocked her glasses off the nightstand, nearly sending the lamp along with it, before her fingers closed around the device.

"Hello?"

Henry couldn't hear what was being said on the other line, but grew worried as Vicki's face grew pale, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay, Dave. Thanks."

She let the phone drop onto the comforter, her hands shaking.

Henry got up and came to sit beside her, eyes searching hers desperately for an answer.

"Vicki, what is it?"

She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. "It's Mike. He's been attacked."

* * *

"What happened?" Vicki demanded of Dave, finding him amongst the large crowd already gathered in the ICU's waiting room; half the homicide department had made it down to the hospital to find out what was going on. 

"I dunno," he said, nodding a brief greeting to Henry, who had placed himself permanently at Vicki's shoulder. "One minute he's sitting at his desk, fine and dandy. I go to get some coffee, and when I come back, he's laying on the floor, all… dead-looking."

"What do you mean?" Vicki hounded. "What did he look like?"

"Dead."

"_Besides _ dead."

"Uh… his neck was bruised, eyes just kind of, you know, blank. You see it with murder victims all the time." He gave her a pointed look. "You know."

"He isn't dead, is he?"

Henry could sense the warning signs a mile away. Vicki's hands were balled into fists at her side, her knuckles white, teeth grinding behind pursed lips. He also knew she was regretting having ever been mad at her former partner in crime.

"No," Dave said. "Thank god."

"Is he going to _live_?"

"We dunno yet," Mike's partner replied honestly. "We're waiting to hear from the doctor."

Vicki turned to Henry, and he gripped her shoulders reassuringly. She didn't need to say anything for him to be able to know what she was thinking. She was regretting the past few weeks she'd spent pushing Mike away; She was blaming herself for something she had no control over. Henry knew it would be useless to try and convince her otherwise.

"What do we do?" she whispered, casting a weary eye about the crowded room. "What if what's been happening to me is being turned on Mike?"

_Good_, Henry thought to himself. _As long as whatever, or whoever, is doing this leaves you out of it.  
_

Moments later he regretted his own words. As much as he disliked the sergeant-detective at times, he had grown used to his angry banter and constant presence in both his and Vicki's lives. And while he hated the way he treated Vicki at times, he certainly did not wish harm upon the man's inflated head.

"You're certainly not ready to go out chasing demons," Henry replied, his voice hardly a whisper. "You technically shouldn't even be walking around."

He saw Vicki about to protest and held up a hand.

"But I know what this means to you, and I'm not going say anything else about how you should be home, because if I were you, I would have come, too."

"Thank you," she said after a moment. Her body was tense, and Henry sensed the blood rushing throughout her veins, trying to retain its recovering equilibrium. She looked like death, but there was no hope in trying to take her home. Henry was certain that, until she knew Mike would be alright, Vicki Nelson would not leave the hospital.

Strangely enough, he couldn't help but ask himself, _What if I were the one potentially dying? Would she be as faithful? _

And, as always, the voice of reason replied, _Of course, you idiot. She and Mike have history, but so do you. You're her safety net – she can't afford to lose you.  
_

"Safety net. Right. Just what I want to be right now."

"Sorry?" Vicki asked, confused.

Henry hadn't realized he'd spoken those last words out loud and easily played it off.

"Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

Vicki was too distracted to care, for which he was thankful. She had immersed herself in a sea of uniforms, Henry's eyes guarding her, Dave's carefully watching him. He had never had a problem with Fitzroy, but Mike had often spoken of the young man's oddities. And so, for his partner's sake, he watched.

* * *

It was nearly 7am before any word regarding Mike's condition surfaced. Vicki had been left in the company of half the homicide department, Henry having been forced to retire to a safe haven for the duration of daylight. The group all jumped to its feet, surrounding the doctor as he trudged wearily into the room; the expression on his face was not promising. 

"How is he?" someone called.

"What happened?" another shouted over the babbling of the other detectives asking questions.

Vicki shoved her way to the front of the crowd and stood face to face with the haggard surgeon.

"Is he alive?" she asked quietly.

Everyone around her froze, waiting for the doctor's response.

When silence ensued, Vicki's chest began to ache, her palms growing sweaty. Her eyes pleaded with the older man's, and he sighed.

"He's in a coma. We've stabilized him, but he's touch and go at this point." He looked out at the sea of faces surrounding him. "I'm sorry there isn't more we can do."

As the doctor turned his back, the group seemed to explode, everyone shouting at once, trying to ask nearly the same question.

"Can we see him?" a single shout reverberated against the tiled walls, overpowering the drone around it.

Nobody knew whom it had come from.

The doctor turned to address the group.

"Only one at a time." And then he was gone.

With the group left to its own devices, chaos seemed inevitable. Vicki watched as everyone began arguing over who should get to visit first.

"We've been friends for nearly seven years!"

"We had breakfast together just this morning."

"I was his partner for an entire week!"

_A week? I guess he really has been going through partners lately.  
_

"Yeah? I've been his partner since Nelson left. I think I should go first," Dave announced.

Vicki, having had enough, cleared her throat rather loudly. She gave everyone a pointed look, then simply walked out. Nobody argued, but she could hear grumbling as she retreated down the hall.

"I know they were involved-"

"_Are _involved."

"Really? I heard they weren't speaking."

"Whatever. I still think I should've gone first."

Vicki ignored their selfishness and anxiously read the numbers on the wall, indicating which room Mike was in. Eventually she found it and reached out to pull the door open, but her hand froze on the latch. She knew Mike would never know she had been there, but it frightened her all the same. She wasn't sure she even wanted to go in, but having made it clear that nobody else could see him until she had, she gritted her teeth and pulled.

Her eyes immediately grew blurry as she tried to adjust to the dim light of the room. The steady hum from a nearby machine made her grind her teeth in what she claimed to be annoyance, though really it just made her nervous. Mike was lying motionless on the bed, his arms resting atop the covers, tubes protruding from places Vicki didn't want to visualize.

She took a shaky step towards Mike's lifeless body and sucked in a breath. A ring of handprints circled his neck, much like those slowly fading from her own. His face was gaunt and pale, much unlike the natural, rugged tan Vicki was so used to. A large tube protruded from his mouth, for he could not breathe on his own. Mike's lips were dry and chapped, and Vicki had the sudden urge to find him some chapstick.

She pulled a chair up to the bed and sank wearily into it, gripping one of Mike's large hands between her own.

"Hi," she whispered. Vicki had once read that comatose patients could still sometimes hear those around them when they spoke; she prayed the article had been correct. "It's Vicki. In case you didn't know."

Nothing.

Vicki took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure.

"Um… I don't really know what to say, to be honest. Usually you're the one who starts yelling, and then I just yell back."

She watched the slight rise and fall of Mike's chest, knowing the motion only happened because a tube was literally feeding him the air his lungs needed to breathe.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Mike. For pushing you away. For going on a date. For throwing all of your things onto my floor and making Henry pick them up."

She took a long, shuddering breath and swiped angrily at her eyes.

"Damn it."

Nothing.

"I know you can hear me," she said, her voice breaking. "Damn it, Mike, wake up."

Still nothing.

"SON OF A BITCH! Mike, FUCK YOU. Wake the hell up!"

She slammed a fist into the mattress and let out something resembling a wail, though it sounded inhuman, even to her own ears.

She bent over and buried her head in Mike's blankets, her tears flowing freely.

"Fuck you," she cried, her chest throbbing as she was wracked with sobs. "You can't die on me, you bastard!"

But, just as she had expected, nothing happened. Mike didn't open his eyes, he didn't take a deep breath and sigh, he didn't shift his weight in any way, didn't crack a smile and make a cruel joke; he simply remained as he had been since the moment Vicki had entered the room – lifeless.

* * *

The room was dark, inky blackness enveloping the two figures inside. Henry leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, face emotionless. It wasn't because he didn't care, because he did. Detective Michael Celluci, vampire-hater or not, mattered to Vicki, and anything that mattered to her, well… 

He had kept a constant vigilance over the frail figure resting her head on the mattress, blankets twisted in her hands. She had not noticed him when he appeared sometime after sunset, and had eventually fallen asleep. Henry had a feeling her sleep was not dreamless, but a small level of confidence told him that she would not be harmed.

A ray of moonlight was the only thing that illuminated her, casting eerie shadows against the wall. Vicki was not a petite woman, and rarely looked up to men, Mike Celluci being the exception at 6'4", but even next to his weakened body, she still seemed dwarfed. It didn't help that her frame seemed to shrink when she was ill, and that was a term decidedly generous for her current condition.

Henry made his way into the room, closing the door silently behind him, not wanting to disturb either person, though he had a feeling Mike would not have noticed. He had spoken with Dave before making his way to Mike's room, having discovered that no one besides Vicki had seen their comatose friend, for she had blatantly refused to leave his side. Much of the homicide department had been forced to leave, for duty called, and Dave and a few others were all that remained.

"I understand that she feels responsible, and all," Dave had said, "but I'm the one who should be mad at myself, because I'm the one who left him alone."

"Nobody knew someone was after him," Henry pointed out, trying his best to sound compassionate.

Dave had merely shrugged. "Maybe you can convince her to let the rest of us see him, huh?"

"I'll try," Henry had replied noncommittally. He knew Vicki wouldn't leave the room unless physically forced to, and she would no doubt put up a fight if he so much as tried.

Watching her now, one hand wadded with blankets, the other clutching Mike's hand, Henry drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. While he was undoubtedly concerned about Mike, he had more than enough reason to worry about Vicki as well. She had been shot no more than a week ago, and should have been at home, tucked safely in bed. Though she would never admit it, Henry knew that her chest ached and that her energy waned much faster than usual, which is why he let her sleep now.

_Hell hath no fury like that of waking Vicki Nelson from a deep sleep_, he added silently. He knew from experience.

However, he did not have to wait long, for, sensing his presence nearby, Vicki rubbed at her eyes and tried to focus on his face, though her poor night vision did not allow for any recognition.

"Henry?" she whispered, her voice slurred with lingering sleep.

"I'm here," he said, coming to kneel down in front of her.

He saw that her face was nearly alabaster in the glow from the moonlight, eyes bloodshot, no doubt from crying, her skin pulled tight across her face. She looked like a ghost, and Henry tried to keep his features neutral, though he wanted to shake some sense into her and send her straight home.

"You look like death," he said, trying to keep his tone at a dispassionate level, lest she grow angry with him and send him away.

She tucked her hair behind one ear and sighed.

"I feel like it." She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. "I'm like the angel of death, Henry. Sooner or later, everyone close to me gets hurt."

Whatever Henry had expected her to say, this had not been it. He had expected her to tell him to shut up in that way she had, where, while it sounded threatening, it wasn't. He had expected her to ask if there was any word on Mike's condition, or to yell at him for not waking her sooner.

"What?" he asked in surprise.

She rose shakily from the chair, rubbing her arms as she paced before the window. Three steps, turn. Three steps, turn. Henry had seen Mike do the same thing only a few days before, but this time it brought him no amusement.

"Vicki, sit down," he ordered halfheartedly.

She ignored him.

"Whoever was doing this to me is now out to get Mike. But he hasn't done anything wrong. I don't… I don't understand. Why would someone do this?"

"You didn't do anything wrong either. These attacks seem to be completely random."

"What if you're next?" Vicki continued. It seemed that interrupting her would do no good. "What if someone's out to get all three of us? What if they know about you? If they tried to attack you while you slept, you wouldn't be able to wake up." She paused. "Would you?"

Henry considered answering her question, but leaned against the window and instead replied, "That's a lot of 'what ifs,' Vicki."

She sighed and continued her pacing. Three steps, turn. Three steps, turn. Her footsteps seemed to match the rhythm of Mike's heart monitor, and it was beginning to get on Henry's nerves. He hated nervous energy and how it caused people to do useless things, such as pacing.

After a long period of silence in which Henry could nearly see the wheels turning inside Vicki's head, she asked, "Do you know of any spells that would allow me to duplicate myself?"

"What?!"

"Well, I can't be in two places at once, now can I?" she snapped. "I have to stay here with Mike, but someone needs to stay with you while you sleep!"

"That's your solution to this?!" Henry exclaimed. He had never known Vicki to be so irrational.

In less than the blink of an eye, he had crossed the room and had Vicki's shoulders firmly in his grasp, struggling against his need to shake her.

"Get off me," Vicki muttered, struggling against his grip. While many a time she had managed to pry his fingers from her arm, in her weakened state she was completely helpless. She could feel her body protesting as she fought, and her pulse quickened, her breaths coming in rapid succession.

"Vicki, stop it," Henry ordered, wishing, as he had many times before, that she was not so hard-headed, and would allow herself to succumb to the power he held over nearly the rest of the population.

Instead, she struggled harder, her hands digging into his chest, trying to push him away. Her ragged breaths turned into wheezing, and she choked on air as it filled her lungs and caught in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, and it felt as if her entire body were on fire.

"Vicki!"

He felt her give in as she collapsed against his chest, tears streaming down her face, gasping for air, pounding at his chest with ineffectual fists.

"I can't let him die, Henry!" she wept. "I have to say that I'm sorry! I need to… I need to apologize."

Henry held her close, stroking her hair with one hand.

"He isn't dying, Vicki, he's in a coma."

"He might as well be dead! What if he never wakes up? Then what, huh? Then they pull the tube from his mouth and kill him! I can NOT let that happen to him!"

Her voice was hoarse, her chest heaving with each breath she took. Henry wasn't entirely sure what to do, but he had a feeling that if she allowed the torrent of tears to continue, she would need a doctor soon enough.

"Breathe, Vicki," he ordered, holding her steady, trying to focus her gaze on him.

"I-I need… I need air," she choked.

Henry gently lifted her into his arms and carried her up to the roof, easily breaking the lock at the top of the stairs with a single tug. He carefully set her down on unsteady feet, his arms still encircling her, her head buried in the crook of his neck. He felt her surrender, her fingers clawing at his back, body wracked with sobs.

"H-he can't d-die," she cried as Henry cradled her head with one hand, the other continuing to hold her upright. The pain in her voice was something he had never heard in nearly five centuries of life, and he prayed he would never have to hear it again. It was the sound of complete and utter helplessness; she hadn't an inkling of hope left. And Vicki Nelson had never been one to give up, which is why this new emotion rattled him so.

She clung to him as she sucked in deep gulps of air, wind blowing her hair across her face, sticking to satin cheeks covered in tears. Henry pulled the hair from her face with deft fingertips and rested his chin atop her head, pulling her to him, wishing he could offer her the same body heat she often shared with him. The April air was chilly, and she was not wearing a coat. Her breath formed tiny white puffs as she exhaled, and Henry took the scarf from around his neck and draped it around her, having left his coat in Celluci's room.

Vicki could feel her chest burning as she tried to regain her composure. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, swatting at the tears still pouring from her eyes and hugging her arms around herself as she stepped away from the comfort of Henry's embrace.

He watched as she slowly made her way to the edge of the building, leaning over the railing to stare down at the few people who still walked the streets at this time of night. The tears refused to stop, and she clutched at her chest, the burning sensation dulled but not completely gone.

Staring out over the bustling city of Toronto, she felt utterly and completely helpless for the first time in her life. A cold wind stung her sensitive eyes and made them water even more behind her tears. She could feel her knees growing weak, and fought for the strength to remain upright. It didn't seem to be working, however, because moments later Henry had appeared at her shoulder and was firmly gripping her waist, the only thing keeping her on her feet.

Their cheeks touched as he leaned in from behind, her silent strength in the face of adversity and the unknown terrors that struggled to bring the world crashing down around her the only thing keeping her from falling over the edge. As thankful as she was for his unfailing devotion, she could not find the strength to muster even a quiet 'thank you.' And as much as she wished the tears to stop from falling, she failed there, too.

But Henry understood. He pressed his lips to her temple and sighed.

"There has to be _something _ we can do," Vicki said quietly, her voice lost on the wind.

"Maybe, but where do we even start?"

She shrugged. "The hell if I know."

"Do you know anyone who could do this?"

He knew it was a foolish question even before he had asked.

"Don't you think I would've told you?"

"Sorry, of course you would have." He paused. "What about Nathan, the guy you were on a date with the other night?"

_I know Mike told you what he thought of your dating, but God forbid I give you _my_ honest opinion. Like, I don't know, maybe that I'm jealous, as much as I try not to admit it. Mike's an honest guy, and while I am too, for the most part, I know when to keep my mouth shut.  
_

Vicki scoffed. "I doubt it. Nathan actually seems like a normal guy. He didn't strike me as the Prince of Darkness type."

"You don't know that," Henry reasoned, ignoring the warning signs as Vicki's hands balled into fists, her lips pursed, eyes narrowing to thin slits. _Though_, he reminded himself, _that could just be the cold_.

"Hear me out," he said, turning her to face him so that her back pressed into the cold metal rungs of the railing. "I have a feeling that there's more to Nathan than you think."

"Yeah?" She didn't sound convinced.

Henry nodded. "There's something he's not telling you."

"Really. And you know this how?"

_She's going to hate me after I say this.  
_

"Just a feeling."

One of Vicki's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs. "You have a feeling?"

He shrugged.

"So you think I should keep an eye on Nathan, based on the fact that you have a 'feeling.' Because he could be a zombie, or a ghoul, or a witch or something. Right?"

"Basically."

"You want to know what I think?" She leaned in so that their noses were only an inch apart. "I think you're jealous."

_Oh god, here we go.  
_

"If I were, it wouldn't change how I feel about him."

Vicki rounded on him. "Oh really? Because jealousy hasn't gotten in the way before. Right. How about the time you nearly killed Mike because he kissed me? Or, no, wait. What about the time you showed up at my office, found Mike in my bed, and stormed off without even asking where I was?" She laughed, though her voice held no humor. "You wouldn't talk to me for a week. Right. Jealousy has nothing to do with this."

Henry hated this, the arguing. He knew it was because she was mad at herself for what had happened to Mike and just needed someone to take out her frustrations on; he just hated that it always happened to be him. Vicki's anger was always indirect, and every time Mike Celluci did something wrong, Henry suffered her wrath as well. It was always worse, however, when she was mad at herself, because she couldn't very well beat herself up, but she had certainly tried, on more than one occasion, to flip Henry onto his back. Tonight, he had a feeling, would be one of those nights.

"You want the honest truth?" Henry asked, metaphorically waving the white flag of surrender. "Fine. Yes, I'm jealous. And it makes me angry that you date other men when the two of us are something close to being in an actual relationship. But I keep my mouth shut because I see how angry you get with Mike, and I can't stand dealing with your rage. You're scary when you're angry, did you know? Yes, scary," he repeated, seeing the look of surprise on her face. "If I wasn't more superhuman than the dead bastard son of Henry VIII, I would be terrified of you. But seeing as how I'm just a vampire who could live for all eternity if I so choose, it just makes me angry. I have never felt this way about a woman in all my years, and you always seem surprised to hear me say that. I loved Christina once, yes, but having known you, I know that what the two of us shared was not love; at seventeen, how could it have been?"

Henry waited for Vicki to interrupt him, but she seemed unable to speak, and so he continued his tirade.

"I love you, Vicki. And that love can transcend time. It could withstand anything the world threw at it if you would just accept it! If you would stop running, maybe you would realize that someone other than Mike Celluci is in love with you. Maybe you could take a leap of faith and actually try this. Maybe, just maybe, fate had a reason for bringing us together, did you ever think of that?"

He turned away from her at that point, and began kicking a lone can across the roof.

"God! I can't believe you sometimes, Vicki. I think it would take me another hundred lifetimes to figure you out! One minute you're offering me your blood, but not your bed. The next you want to make love, but when we do, you say nothing. And to top it all off, you go your merry way and see other men at your leisure. How is that right? That's selfish," he said accusingly, jabbing a finger into her chest without thinking.

Vicki staggered back and groaned in pain.

"Fuck you," she hissed, pushing his hand away when he tried to help.

"Vicki, I'm sorry!"

"You don't jab your fingers at people who are recovering from being shot!" she yelled, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her chest.

But what hurt more than any gunshot wound were words. Henry's words. Her head was spinning, though she couldn't tell if she was angry, hurt or merely surprised. Logic told her to be angry, that Henry's verbal attack on her had been nothing but a huge mistake on his part.

_But you asked for it.  
_

Or perhaps she should have felt hurt by what he'd said.

_When you ask for the honest truth, you get it.  
_

She had certainly been surprised by his outburst.

But a different feeling was beginning to nag at her, and it was one that she had long ago learned to suppress. Vicki Nelson would never admit that she was scared. She had slipped once, but she had thought she was dying, so that could be overlooked, she reasoned. No, this tirade Henry had just rained down on her head had scared her. Not necessarily his anger, but his words and the emotion behind each and every one. Was fright really the only thing keeping her from being with him?

As the burning in her chest faded, she shoved her worries from her mind. There would be time enough to think later, when Henry wasn't around. She turned to face him, her face emotionless.

Inwardly, Henry sighed. Maybe he hadn't gotten through to her after all.

_Damn it. _

"Look, it's almost daylight. I need to check on Mike, and you need rest. Especially after your little self-righteous speech just now. Go to bed, Henry, I'll see you tomorrow night."

He watched as Vicki slowly made her way back to the stairs, not quite slamming the door behind her.

He leaned against the railing then, wondering what on earth had possessed him to tell Vicki everything that had been on his mind for nearly a month. He had learned this lesson from the countless times Mike had seen fit to speak his mind, and yet, here he was, standing alone on the roof of a hospital, back to the rising sun, wondering what tomorrow was going to be like. She hadn't even yelled at him for what he'd said, only for prodding at her fragile chest wound. If Henry was being honest with himself, he would have preferred the yelling to the cold indifference he had received. He was excellent at keeping his mask firmly in place, but, it appeared, so was Vicki.

As he stood there thinking, he could feel the earth warming behind him, and realized that sunrise was closing in. Regretfully, he made his way back to the musty broom closet and closed his eyes. The last thought he had before daylight took him was of Vicki and her stone cold rejection of everything he had just said.

* * *

Vicki looked up from where she sat in the corner of Mike's room, book in hand, to see Nathan's frame taking up most of the doorway. 

"Nathan! Hi! Um… what are you doing here?"

"Well, I stopped by your office, but instead of finding you, I found your mother, and she told me you'd be here. So, here I am."

He wrapped his arms around her as she stood, concern etched on his face. He couldn't really understand why she was here, keeping an eye on the tall man who had literally dragged her out of the theater a week ago, but he hated being alone in hospital, and had decided to keep her company for a few hours.

"How's he doing?"

Vicki shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. "He's stable, that's all the doctor keeps saying. I don't know if that's good, but he hasn't gotten any worse, so…"

"Stable's good," Nathan reassured her.

He scanned the room, wondering why it felt so empty.

"Where's that other guy who was with him the other night?"

"Who, Henry?" Vicki asked, mildly surprised he had noticed. "He sleeps during the day."

_Why the hell did you just say that,_ the voice warned.

"Don't most people work during the day?" He had meant it as a joke.

"No, they don't. Nurses and reporters and pilots work at night. Lots pf people work at night," Vicki snapped. "Henry's a writer, and he writes better at night, so he sleeps during the day."

Nathan took a step back and held up his hands. "I was just kidding," he said, surprised by her outburst. "Sorry!"

Mentally, Vicki slapped herself. _Of course he was kidding, you moron. The average human being doesn't believe in vampires, and Nathan certainly has no idea what Henry is. Get a grip.  
_

"Sorry," she apologized, sinking back into the chair. "It was a long night."

"Listen, you need to get out of here," Nathan advised, leaning casually against the window, a charming smile lighting his face. "I know you want to stay and keep an eye on…?"

"Mike."

"Mike," he continued, "but it isn't doing him, or you, any good to sit here all day. You look like crap," he teased, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He knew all about her being shot, and was worried that she was making herself worse by playing vigilante and waiting around for Mike to wake up.

"I have to stay here-" she began.

"No. I'm taking you out tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Mike won't miss you for a few hours, and neither will Henry.

_Henry will miss me plenty. He'll be positively out of his mind if I'm not here when he wakes up.  
_

That last thought, however, seemed to convince her that perhaps Nathan was right.

"Maybe I _do_ need to get out of here," she said thoughtfully.

"I promise we'll take it easy," Nathan promised. "Two, three hours, and I'll bring you right back."

"I could definitely stand to get out of here for a while," Vicki agreed. "Okay."

"Okay," Nathan grinned. "I'll be back at eight."

He leaned down and planted a whisper of a kiss on her lips, then was gone.

Vicki watched him go, then pulled out her phone.

"Mom? Can you do me a favor? I need you to bring me my red dress and some heels."

* * *

The club was loud, but not excessively so; there were a lot of people, but it didn't seem crowded. Vicki clung to Nathan's arm, squinting into the dim light. She almost wished she had explained to him about her eye condition, but decided against it; she did not need anyone's pity right now. 

"Have you ever been here?" Nathan asked, his voice somewhat muffled by the music playing nearby.

Vicki shook her head.

"I love it," Nathan said, leading her towards a corner of the bar. "The music's good, it never seems crowded, no matter how many people are here, and they happen to have the best bloody mary's in town."

Vicki smiled. She had to agree that the night club was something she had never seen before. She rarely inhabited clubs these days, considering her eyesight, but she felt safe with Nathan so near. She sipped the drink he handed her and nodded her approval.

"It's nice," she agreed. "It's been a while since I've been to any clubs."

"But you frequent bars, huh?"

She didn't want to admit that she usually went out with Henry because Mike hated bars, having arrested his fair share of sleazebags there.

"Depends on how I'm feeling," she said. It was half true.

"You look gorgeous," Nathan said, his voice low, a wicked smile in place.

Vicki laughed.

"Well, thanks."

"No, really," he said, his voice returning to normal, afraid she thought he had been kidding. "You do."

In a form-fitting scarlet dress that came down to her knees, she looked stunning.

He took her drink and set it down, offering her his hand.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

Vicki eyed him carefully, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"I suppose so," she said, allowing him to lead her over to the dance floor. The back wall seemed to be lined with chain-link fencing, the floor a light wood, the walls a black cement of some sort, splattered with various colors of glow-in-the-dark paint. Vicki wasn't quite sure why, but she liked it.

Then, against her better judgment, she allowed herself to recognize a familiar scent. It had been tugging at her senses since they had arrived, and she had, for the most part, ignored it. But here, by the chain-link, it was strong. She was certain no one else had noticed it, but Henry's scent was something Vicki knew well.

Nathan saw the look of concentration on her face.

"Are you okay?"

Vicki looked up in surprise and plastered a smile to her face, forcing all thoughts of Henry from her mind.

"Yeah," she lied. "I was just trying to remember the name of this song."

"Heck if I know," Nathan said, moving closer and wrapping his arms around her waist, his face coming closer and closer to her own. "All I know is that I want to kiss you right now."

It was a line Vicki had heard many times before, but somehow, when Nathan said it, it didn't seem so cheesy.

Slowly, the rest of the club faded from Vicki's mind as his lips pressed against hers. They were thicker than Henry or Mike's, and altogether entirely enticing. Her lips parted as he leaned her back against the fence, his tongue dancing with hers as their bodies melded together.

Mesmerized by Nathan and the way his lips drew her into another time and place, Vicki couldn't help but feel guilty as she allowed herself to succumb to his subtle seductions, enjoying every moment of it.

* * *

"Vicki?" Henry called into the darkness, already knowing she wasn't there. 

Mike remained immobile, his eyes closed, chest rising and falling with the help of an oxygen tube. Even a man as tall as Mike Celluci seemed dwarfed by the massive hospital bed he lay in, and Henry felt a pang of guilt, knowing the detective had probably been alone for a few hours now; Vicki's scent was faint.

"I'll go find her," he told him. "Don't go anywhere, Detective."

At the door, he turned to offer a final thought. "And, regardless of how much I dislike you at times, I hope you make it through this."

Finding himself wandering the halls, Henry tried to catch a wisp of Vicki's perfume, and after a few minutes, traced it to the front doors of the hospital.

"Great," he muttered, stepping out into the night.

As he followed the scent that carried itself on the breeze, Henry grew worried. He had a feeling that something was not quite right with the world that evening, and regardless of how Vicki felt about his 'feelings,' he trusted them implicitly.

He found himself outside one of the night clubs he often frequented when the Hunger overtook him, and stepped inside. Vicki's presence was strong here, and it took him only seconds to find her amongst the crowded room. She was half-hidden behind Nathan's towering figure, her eyes closed as she leaned back into the chain-link fence, her mouth open to form a silent 'o' as she moaned in pleasure.

Henry was beside the two in moments and calmly tapped Nathan on the shoulder. Vicki's eyes opened, then widened in surprise when they focused on him. Henry felt disgust at her heavy-lidded lashes, her eyes drowsy from pleasure. She took a moment to compose herself, and in those brief seconds, Henry could have sworn he had seen freshly made bite marks on her neck. He made a mental note to check it out later.

"Excuse me," he said to Nathan, a smile plastered to his face, though it held no warmth. "Do you mind if I cut in?"

"Actually, I do," Nathan said, annoyed.

The two men stared daggers at each other, a growing sense of foreboding growing in the pit of Henry's stomach. He had understood why Mike disliked Nathan, and he felt the same way, but there was more to it than pure jealousy. Something in the way Nathan's eye devoured Vicki, the way he touched her, just the way he smiled, made the hair on the back of Henry's neck stand on end.

He easily brushed past Nathan and placed a protective grip around Vicki's upper arm.

"C'mon" he said, tugging.

"Get off me," she said, returning to her senses. "I can take care of myself, Henry."

"You know, you keep saying that, but bad things just keep happening. And Mike needs you. Let's go."

"Is he awake?" Vicki asked in surprise, her eyes hopeful.

For a moment, Henry considered lying, but knew he'd be in worse trouble if he did.

"No."

"Well, I don't feel like leaving quite yet then, so if you'll excuse me," she said, turning back to Nathan and leaning seductively against the fence.

Bile was gathering at the back of Henry's throat, the idea of anyone else's lips touching Vicki's body nearly making him crazy. He had an overwhelming urge to punch Nathan's lights out, and when the young man leaned in to kiss Vicki back, Henry did just that.

"Henry, what the hell are you doing?!" she yelled, attempting to help Nathan, who was doubled over in pain.

"We need to go. Now."

"Henry, you fucking punched my date! What makes you think I'm leaving?"

As Vicki whirled on him, Henry saw it again, the marks on her neck, not unlike those he sometimes left, though he knew these were not his own. He glared at Nathan, and could have sworn the other man's eyes flashed a threatening black, if only for a moment. That was all the confirmation Henry needed. Too angry to try and reason with her, he swept Vicki off her feet and carried her outside and tossed her into the back seat of his car, ignoring her threatening remarks and violent kicking the entire way.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing? You can't seriously be trying to kidnap me," Vicki hollered, sticking her head between the two front seats.

The key froze in the ignition and Henry spun around to face her, pulling a mass of hair away from her neck.

"What the hell are those?" he spat, pointing at her neck.

"What are what?" She looked confused.

"The bite marks. Who gave them to you?"

Vicki raised an eyebrow. "Well, seeing as how I only know one vampire, I would say they're yours."

"Those are fresh marks," Henry argued. "And they don't match my teeth."

"Fangs," Vicki corrected him. "Bloodsuckers have fangs."

"Whatever. They aren't mine, and I have a funny feeling that your 'date' knows where they came from."

"Oh god, Henry! So now you're trying to tell me that Nathan is a vampire?"

"I told you I had a feeling."

"Feelings are shit," Vicki snapped. "They don't mean a damn thing."

Henry snorted. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"I can't believe you punched him! What were you thinking?"

"Get in the front seat," Henry muttered, putting the car in drive.

"I'm fine back here, thanks."

"Vicki, get in the front. Now. And look at your neck in the mirror while you're at it."

Vicki didn't climb into the front seat, she wasn't going to give him that sort of satisfaction, but she did lean over to check out the supposed bite marks Nathan had made. She stared long and hard, and couldn't deny it. She knew what Henry's marks looked like, for she had had them for some time. These marks were entirely different.

She didn't say anything the rest of the drive back to the hospital, not until they were both securely locked in Mike's room some twenty minutes later.

"I'm sorry for ruining your evening," Henry apologized halfheartedly.

"I'm sorry I said your feelings were shit."

Vicki sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"So you really think Nathan's a vampire?"

Henry nodded.

"Usually I can sense it, but this is different. There's something more to him that I'm not getting."

"Well, even if he is a vampire," Vicki reasoned, "that's no reason for me to stop seeing him."

"I thought you wanted to see someone who was 'normal,'" Henry pointed out.

She shrugged. "Apparently normal and I don't get along too well."

"So then you shouldn't have a problem being with me."

Vicki sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Can we do this another time?" she asked wearily.

"How are we ever going to have this conversation when you keep putting it off?" Henry asked.

"We'll talk about it when this is all over. Seriously. I promise." She added, seeing the look on Henry's face.

"I'll hold you to that."

Vicki had no doubt that he would.

* * *

"How was your date?" Marjory Nelson asked, handing her daughter a styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee. 

"Surprisingly short," Vicki replied, taking a sip of coffee and wrinkling her nose in disgust. She set the cup down on Mike's bedside table and sighed.

Marjory Nelson could sense her daughter's helplessness and wrapped her arms around her.

"It's only been three days, dear," she said soothingly. "His body's just trying to heal itself."

"Yeah, well, I wish it'd heal faster. Three days and not even a twitch!"

"Has Henry been here at all?"

Vicki nodded. "When he can."

The older Ms. Nelson nodded her approval.

"I like him," she said, massaging Vicki's aching shoulders. "He's very genuine."

_Mom, you don't even know the half of it.  
_

"Yeah, he's, uh, something else."

_If that weren't the understatement of the year.  
_

"Am I going to get to see him again before I leave?"

"How long are you staying?"

As much as Vicki loved her mother, she could only take her for so long, and her constant hovering was making Vicki jittery.

"I only have off until Thursday."

_Two more days. Great.  
_

Vicki removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose; the bright florescent lights were beginning to give her a headache. As if by magic, her mother produced two aspirins and handed them to her, along with a glass of water.

"Dear, I know you're worried about Michael, but what is going on between the two of you?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Mom," Vicki moaned, her avoidance blatantly obvious.

Marjory, also stubborn, would not budge.

"Darling, the one time I saw you two together, you were hardly speaking. Is he jealous of Henry?"

_That's not even the half of it.  
_

"Another time, Mom." She could be hardheaded, too.

"Vicki, there won't be another time, I know you. As soon as I let this go, you'll never bring it up again. Now, what is going on between you and Michael Celluci?"

Her head was pounding, and her stomach felt queasy, but Vicki ignored them both. She was exhausted, but sleep could wait for later. Her mother had this effect on her, draining her of energy much faster than any other every-day task would have. Logic told her it would be best to just explain everything very quickly, but the competitive voice inside her head told her to keep her mouth shut.

"Fine. Let me guess." Vicki's mother began ticking ideas off on her fingers. "Henry sort of just popped up one day. Mike decided he didn't want any competition. So now Mike has decided to hate Henry. But you seem to like Henry much more than Mike, which makes Mike jealous." She glanced in her daughter's direction. "Is most of this accurate so far?"

Vicki just nodded.

"So now two gorgeous men are throwing themselves at you, but you're too scared to commit-"

"I'm not scared!"

"-As usual. So you run off and find another man who you could potentially like, yet you're still trying to keep him at arm's length."

"Something like that," Vicki said. "Gee, Mom, I guess you know everything now, so it's time for you to leave. Bye."

She pushed her mother towards the door, but Marjory was having none of it.

"Victoria Nelson, get your hands off me this instant! I am not going anywhere quite yet."

"Mom, I just want some peace and quiet," Vicki grumbled, trying hopelessly to shut the door in her face.

"Then go home and take a nap!" her mother ordered, trying to pull her daughter out into the hall with her.

The tug-of-war between the two women seemed to be going nowhere. Vicki refused to leave the room, and Marjory refused to return to the hotel.

"Mom, I love you. Really. But please, go away!" Vicki panted.

"Darling, I love you, too. No."

Too tired to even care anymore, Vicki threw up her hands and retreated back to the window sill where she had taken up residence since early that morning.

"I'm just here to look out for you," Marjory explained in that motherly fashion children so often despise. "Since you don't seem to be able to take care of yourself. Lately, anyway."

Vicki ignored the concern etched across her mother's face.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"'Fine' isn't usually what people who have just been shot use to describe themselves," Marjory Nelson argued. "You need rest, Vicki."

The older woman bent down and scooped up Vicki's belongings and headed towards the door, Vicki having no choice but to follow her if she wanted to retrieve her things.

"Mom, give me my stuff."

"Go home and rest, and then I'll think about it."

Vicki raised an eyebrow.

"Are you blackmailing me into bedtime?"

Marjory grinned wickedly.

"Maybe."

Vicki had grown tired from their argument, and didn't resist when her mother laced her arm through hers and walked her down to the front doors, where she then hailed a cab.

"Get some rest, dear," Marjory Nelson said, planting a kiss in her daughter's hair. "I promise to stay here and keep an eye on Mike."

"Will you c-"

"And I'll call you if anything changes."

She handed Vicki her bag.

"Thanks," she muttered, pulling the cab's door shut behind her, unable to believe that she had actually given in. Apparently lack of sleep had weakened her resolve to remain at Mike's side until he awoke.

Guilt overtook her as she pulled up in front of her building, turning into frustration as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, then fading into exhaustion as she crumpled on the bed, asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

* * *

The figure paced back and force, rubbing its hands together in agitated thought. 

"Why isn't he dead yet?" it mused. "The spell was completed, yet he still lives."

Candles were all that lit the tiny room, casting eerie shadows against the wall, the wick's lights flickering in the breeze coming in through the open window. Incense burned in the center of a pentagram drawn on the floor, and dried herbs hung from rafters in the ceiling. In the corner was a roughly hewn wooden table, a large, ancient text lying open on it.

The figure leafed through a few pages, then found what it needed. It skimmed over the text, running a finger along a particularly important line of incantation. It nodded, snapping the book shut.

"Everything looks as if it was done correctly. So why is he still alive?"

The figure ruffled through the clutter on the table and pulled out a photograph. It traced a long, pale finger along the edge of a face and grinned.

"You're next. And this time, there won't be any mistakes."

* * *

Vicki awoke in a cold sweat, her hands shaking uncontrollably. The air was electric, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

_I know I always knock Henry's 'feelings' as being bullshit, but maybe he was right.  
_

She clambered out of bed and pulled on her glasses, peering out into the night. The street was quiet, not a single, restless soul wandering about the neighborhood. Still, she could sense that something was altogether wrong, and the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn't helping.

Picking up her phone, she dialed the number for Mike's room and wasn't surprised to hear her mother's slurred voice pick up, having obviously been asleep.

"Yes?"

"Mom, it's Vicki. Is Mike okay?"

"Darling, it's one in the morning."

"I _know _that. Is he okay?"

"Same as before. Now go to bed, dear. I'll see you in the morning."

Annoyed, Vicki hung up, immediately dialing Henry's penthouse.

One ring. Nothing.

"C'mon, c'mon," Vicki muttered, tapping her fingers incessantly against the windowpane.

Two rings.

"Damn it, Henry, pick up!"

Three rings. The click of the answering machine picked up.

"You've reached Henry. Leave a mes-"

"Son of a bitch," Vicki grumbled, about to hang up, when Henry's voice interrupted the machine.

"This is Henry."

"Henry! You're okay?"

"Vicki?" He could sense she was worried.

"You're alright?" she pressed.

"I'm fine, why?"

Vicki blew out a sigh of relief and sat back down on her bed.

"Nothing. Sorry to bother you. G'night."

"Vicki, wait. What's wrong?" Even from across town, he could sense the unease in her voice, feel the tension in her body.

"It was nothing," she reiterated. "Just…. Just a feeling."

She could hear the smile in Henry's voice.

"A feeling, huh? I thought feelings meant shit to you."

"Shut up. I was just concerned, that's all."

He didn't want to antagonize her, so he tried another tactic.

"Do you want me to come over?" He knew she was more likely to talk in person.

"No, that's okay. Um, I'll see you tomorrow night."

_It was worth a try._

"Alright. Sweet dreams, Vicki."

"Yeah, you too."

Though she was certain Henry was in no immediate danger, she still couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong, and that she was powerless to stop it.

* * *

Henry rested his head in his hands, his lips pursed, brow furrowed. The fear in Vicki's voice had worried him, and he hadn't been able to return to his work since she'd called. He doodled aimlessly across a piece of scratch paper, his mind elsewhere. 

He had thought of going over to her office anyway, but had eventually decided against it. He was glad she had actually left the hospital, and not in the company of someone other than himself. Nathan worried him, and the less time Vicki spent with him, the better. He had also considered calling her back, but had eventually come to the conclusion that that would have been selfish, just wanting to hear her voice.

And so, hating himself for it, Henry began to pace. Five even strides, then pivot. Five steps, pivot. Five steps, pivot. Five...

Henry stopped and spun around, expecting someone to be standing directly behind him. He could sense the life of someone nearby, but after a quick sweep of his apartment, he turned up nothing.

_Vicki just has you worried now, that's all,_ the voice reasoned. _You would know if something, or someone, were here.  
_

"Damn it, Vicki," Henry said aloud, taking a seat at his desk and picking up a pencil.

But even as Henry began to draw figures that strangely resembled the woman in question, he couldn't help but feel as if he were not alone.

* * *

"You're mine, nightwalker," a voice whispered. "When daylight comes, you're mine." 


	5. Chapter 5

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Henry stared down at the drawing he had just completed, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was for his most recent novel, in which Vicki seemed to be the heroine yet again. He noticed that lately he had been basing many of his female characters on her strong personality and good looks. She could have been hideous, and all he would have had to do was find someone else to base the physical traits of his characters on, but with a woman as beautiful as she was, it wasn't necessary. He had told her all about the new series he was working on, but she had yet to see the sketches for herself. Henry had promised her a private viewing before the comic was sent for print, and she had agreed to wait, rather impatiently, for him to finish.

Now, staring at the numerous drawings littering his desk, he sighed and crumpled this most recent one in his hands. Since Vicki's mysterious phone call earlier that evening, he had been unable to successfully capture his main character in a light that seemed fitting. He had drawn the same picture several times, and none of them had suited his mood.

His mood, if he were to be so bold as to admit jealousy, was not good. Outwardly he remained calm, but his insides boiled. Victoria Nelson was the most stubborn woman he had ever met, and he had never been so in love. He was never happier than when he was with her, and he would have been content to just watch her sleep for the rest of his life, if that was all he had.

Be that as it may, Henry Fitzroy was more than a bit frustrated.

He stared at his reflection in a nearby mirror. "I bare my soul to her, and what do I get? Nothing. Not even an inkling of hope. I couldn't even make her mad!"

But Henry didn't need Vicki to be mad at him to be angry with himself, because his frustration was causing him to do foolish things, such as the ridiculous amount of pacing he had found himself involved in lately, or not being able to so much as concentrate on his illustrations. He was even sensing things that weren't there, and that could be dangerous to a life as cut and dry as his own.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It was nearly dawn, and Henry could feel the earth warming beneath his feet. Angry or not, sleep could cure nearly any emotion. By the time he awoke in the evening, he would be levelheaded once more, and a relationship with Vicki would not seem nearly as impossible, or as daunting, as it did now.

He closed the double-layered blinds in the bedroom, then slid between the sheets, letting the cool feeling of silk wash over him. A faint trace of Vicki's perfume still lingered on his pillow, and he breathed deeply, filling his mind with thoughts of her to sustain him through the day. As his eyes drooped, daylight threatening to overtake him, he smiled.

* * *

Nearby, watching, someone else smiled, too. 

The figure leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling pleasantly.

"This will be a piece of cake," it commented, completely aware of the fact that it could break everything in the apartment, and still the sleeping figure would not wake.

It made a circle around the bed, carefully considering its prisoner. The room was nearly pitch black, due to the double-blinds covering the large picture window. The vampire was trapped in a dreamless sleep, and while performing an incantation like it had for the two other victims would have been enjoyable, one was not needed here. All it had to do was whip open the blinds and the nightwalker would ignite and slowly burn to death; it needn't wait around either, since the woman would not come during the day. No one came to visit a vampire in daylight, it was common knowledge, even to those who didn't believe.

The figure peered out at the lightening sky and grinned. A few more minutes and the sun would be visible to the entire city of Toronto, and soon the vampire would begin a slow, painful, second death.

The figure paced across the room, patience being something it had learned to appreciate over nearly five centuries of half-life. It could have recited a simple incantation and the vampire would have been dead, but watching him burn to death seemed so much more enjoyable, even if it didn't plan on sticking around for the entire show.

One last glance beyond the curtains told it that the time had come. The sun had risen beyond the horizon, and slowly the streets were beginning to fill with people rushing, trying to beat the yellow lights, attempting to hail cabs, hurrying to the closest Starbucks for their daily dose of caffeine.

Everything was right with the world, except inside the penthouse suite at the intersection of Yonge and Bloor. As the figure left the sun-kissed bedroom, it smiled. The lingering scent of burning flesh followed it into the hall, and with a click of the lock, Henry Fitzroy's fate was sealed.

* * *

Vicki awoke feeling nauseous, her forehead clammy, palms sweaty. She had tossed and turned all night, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, and that whatever it was, she was powerless to stop it. 

_You're being ridiculous,_ she reminded herself. _You're just worried about Mike, that's all._ _The world isn't going to explode today, or collide with the sun, just because you have a feeling.  
_

But the feeling followed her into the shower and stayed with her all through breakfast. Her omelet stuck in her throat, and the orange juice had no flavor. Her head hurt and her chest ached, and all she wanted to do was to crawl back into bed and stay there for the rest of the day, until the feeling wore off.

However, lying about all day wasn't an option. She needed to return to the hospital to check on Mike, though she was certain all was as it had been, since her mother hadn't called. She had expected Henry to call her back, or show up inside her bedroom after her worried phone call last night, but he had done neither.

"Maybe something's wrong," she said anxiously, chewing on her bottom lip. "He would've called back, wouldn't he?"

_No he wouldn't, not if he was busy. He was probably working. He's probably fine.  
_

But probably wasn't good enough, not today. Vicki decided to just stop by Henry's apartment on her way to the hospital. Just in case. If Henry was asleep, she would feel foolish, but he would never know she had been there. If something _was _ wrong, well, maybe it was a good thing she was on her way.

She called a cab, and waited impatiently for it to arrive, tapping her foot nervously. She fiddled with the zipper on her jacket and paced back and forth across the entryway, annoyed that the cab services in Toronto were not always as quick as she would have liked them to be.

_It might've been faster if I'd just walked_, she mused.

Thirty minutes later she was seated in the backseat of a yellow taxi, stuck in the middle of the morning rush hour traffic.

"C'mon, c'mon," she said through gritted teeth. The feeling hadn't left her, and she was growing more and more concerned by the second. She had convinced herself that something was horribly wrong and that Henry needed her. She didn't care if she was wrong anymore, she just needed to know that he was alright.

After not moving for nearly ten minutes and deciding it would be faster for her to simply get out and walk, she paid the driver and hopped out. It took everything inside of her to stop from pushing people out of her way, though mentally she was flipping the bird at everyone who cut across her path.

She arrived at Henry's building and waved off the doorman's greeting, slamming the button to the elevator more times than was necessary. It seemed to take a millennium for the doors to open, and she nearly drove herself crazy, pacing inside the confined space of the elevator during the seventeen-story ride.

She was in the hallway before the doors were even completely open, and ran the length of the corridor to Henry's front door. She dug in her pocket for her keys, and fumbled with them, dropping them to the floor twice in her rush to find the correct one.

Standing outside the penthouse, Vicki knew her instincts had been correct. She knew when something was wrong, and the aura the apartment was giving off was one Vicki had grown familiar with in solving cases with Henry for nearly a year; it was a feeling of pure evil, and it made her stomach churn.

As she pulled open the door, closing it quickly behind her, lest anyone had followed her, she covered her nose. A stench so repugnant reached her nostrils it took everything inside of her not to lose her breakfast.

"Henry?" she called, peering into the living room.

She didn't expect him to answer, and of course he didn't.

The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar, and Vicki pushed it open with the toe of her sneaker, expecting it to be pitch black, as it always was. She was horrified when sunlight warmed her face.

"Henry?"

She peered into the room and let out a scream so loud it could have woken the dead. She leapt across the room and yanked the blinds shut, then clambered onto the bed. She quickly realized what the smell permeating the room was as she stared down at Henry's smoldering body. The skin on his hands had nearly melted away, bone peaking through slowly disintegrating muscle and tissue. A face she had come to know every feature of so intimately was hardly recognizable.

"W…What-?" she choked out, unable to form coherent thoughts.

"H-Henry? Oh god, Henry, wake up!" she cried, whipping back the sheets. The rest of his body was only scorched, sunlight not having been able to completely penetrate the blankets.

"Shit!"

She searched frantically for anything that she could use to put on the wounds, but the burn cream Henry kept in his medicine cabinet, she had a feeling, would not be strong enough.

"Um, um, um…" she began to pace, running her fingers through her hair, ignoring the pain she felt when she accidentally yanked out a large clump. "Think, Nelson, think!"

It took a few moments, but finally something came to her.

_Why didn't I think of this sooner!_, she scolded herself.

She ran into the living room and slid her wrist along the sword Henry kept on display. It hurt much worse than she had anticipated, flinching as she let out a tiny whimper of pain, and watched as a sticky red substance began to trickle down her arm, momentarily fascinated.

She hurried back into the other room and pressed her wrist against Henry's lips. She was surprised when nothing happened, having expected him to suddenly sprout fangs and take solace in the nourishment she offered. She grew worried when he didn't so much as move.

"Damn it! Okay, um…"

She fumbled with her jacket and threw it against the wall. Gently, she pulled Henry's burned lips apart and situated her wrist so that the blood dribbled into his mouth.

"C'mon, c'mon…"

Nothing happened. Vicki's eyes grew cloudy as she wrestled with her tears. She couldn't succumb to emotions, not now; she needed to focus on saving Henry, and she would do whatever it took.

"Henry, come on! You can't die on me! I nearly lost Mike. I might _still _ lose Mike! I can't lose you, too!" She took a deep breath. "I love you, too, okay? There, I said it. I'm scared. I'm scared to be in a relationship with you. Are you happy? I'm fucking apologizing, here! You can wake up anytime now."

After what seemed like an eternity, the quiet sounds of the bedside clock ticking away the moments she had left with him, she could have sworn she saw movement. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on his throat. After another few moments, she saw it again. This time she was positive, he had swallowed.

"That's it, Henry," she encouraged, fighting back the lump in her throat. Now was not the time for tears. "C'mon… just heal! All you have to do is heal. I know you can do it, you've done it before!"

It took hours, but Henry continued to feed from the blood Vicki offered. She could feel herself growing weak, and wondered if he would know when to stop. Every other time they had shared this intimate act, he had been fully conscious, had always pushed her away when he knew enough was enough. She didn't have as much blood to offer this time, which she knew would be a problem, because it would take a lot to heal the damage that had been done. On any other occasion she would have begged Mike to help her, but in this moment she was completely alone.

Her head was beginning to swim, her vision growing blurry, but she resisted the urge to pull her wrist away. The skin around Henry's fingers had just begun to grow back, but his face was still deformed, though not nearly as bad as it had been when Vicki had arrived.

She leaned in to push a curl away from his face and drew in a shaky breath. She knew she would have to pull away soon, but she stubbornly held on. She would give him nearly everything she had before she collapsed, though a few minutes later she knew it was time. Carefully, she pried her wrist from Henry's mouth and lay back against the pillows, her breathing ragged. Her vision was nothing but a blur of inky blackness, and she could feel bile rising at the back of her throat, angrily forcing it back down.

"I'll just rest for a little while," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I'll let him finish… later…"

As she drifted off into the dark world of unconsciousness, she realized she had never even bothered to consider who could have done such a thing. There would be time enough for that later.

* * *

The room was dark when Henry's eyes opened. His body ached, and his skin felt tight, like it had been stretched across his face. His head was pounding, and he couldn't recall the last time he had suffered something as minor as a headache. 

He groaned as he rolled over, sensing a familiar presence nearby. Vicki lay curled up beside him, though she resembled a ghost more than anything else. Her skin appeared almost translucent in the faint glow from the lamp he had just turned on, and her lips had a blue tint to them he had not seen before.

"Vicki?" he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder, his body straining in protest. "Vicki, wake up."

Slowly her eyes opened, and it took a few moments for her to focus.

"You're okay," she said, her voice subdued. "That's good."

Henry's brow furrowed. "Of course I'm fine. But I feel like I've been hit by a bus. Why might that be?"

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Vicki stared at him expectantly.

"You have no idea what happened?"

An eyebrow shot up.

"Now I'm confused. Are you going to explain, or do I have to beat the answer out of you?" he teased, reaching out to finger a strand of satiny blonde hair.

Still weak, Vicki could only manage to roll onto her back, staring up into Henry's familiar green eyes. His face had been completely restored, she noted.

"Did you leave the blinds open?" she asked.

"Of course not." After a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Vicki, how long have you been here?"

"All day," she replied honestly. "You'd be dead if I hadn't shown up."

Henry was growing more concerned by the second.

"Alright, start explaining. I'm assuming you look like crap for a reason."

"Gee, thanks. That's what I get for saving your life? Cruel jokes?"

"Vicki, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Someone opened your blinds," she said simply.

It took a moment for her words to sink in, and when they did, Henry's eyes flashed. The sparkling black orbs no longer frightened her, but the anger that had begun to radiate from him certainly did.

_She wouldn't have opened them, _he told himself. _She wouldn't. I know she's been mad at me, but trying to kill me?  
_

But somewhere inside his head, a voice began to argue.

_Who knows what she's capable of when she's angry? She could easily have opened the blinds and then, after you fried in the sun for a while, closed them and offered you her blood. It's not rocket science._

_No. She… she couldn't do that._

_Really? You don't think so? _

"And you've been here all day? Since sun-up?"

His gaze was condemning.

Vicki's eyebrows shot up.

"You're accusing _me _ of opening your blinds?! I'm stubborn, Henry, not Satan!"

"No one else has a key besides the doorman."

"And I'm more likely to want you dead, is that it?"

"You've been awfully mad at the world lately. Sure you didn't feel like taking it out on me?"

Now Vicki's defenses were up, her strength suddenly returning.

"Well excuse me for saving your miserable life," she snapped. "I guess I should've been turned off by the smell of burning flesh and left you to it. My bad."

"What?"

"When I got here, you were burning to death. You know, like the wicked witch of the west."

"Why?"

Anything beyond a one-word question seemed beyond his scope of thought at the moment.

"You tell me, you're like a walking dictionary on vampire lore! Sunlight burns, I'm not stupid! I don't need to read to know that. The movies got at least one thing right."

"I don't see any burn marks," Henry argued, common sense momentarily escaping the whirlwind that was his mind.

Vicki threw up her hands in frustration.

"Of course not, you dumbass! I let you drink my blood, that's why! You fucking healed while you slept. A few red blood cells and some sleep and you're good as new, did you forget?"

"It's not that simple! You have to… Wait. You gave me your blood? While I was asleep?"

"Yeah well, I didn't feel like watching you die," she muttered.

"How bad was it?"

"Your face and your hands were completely gone," she reported, trying to ignore the images that popped into her head.

"You're sure you didn't decide to just let me fry a little, knowing you'd be here to help me heal before I woke up?"

"I'm not that clever," Vicki snapped. "And why would I? What makes you think I could even do something like that?!"

"Oh, I don't know. You've been pretty angry lately, especially at yourself. You're sure you didn't just decide to take it out on me again? Because, that's usually how it goes. You screw up, but since you can't very well hurt yourself, you place the brunt of your anger on me."

This wasn't like him. Vicki wasn't sure what had happened between last night and now, but Henry seemed to have become an entirely different person in the course of twelve short hours and a near brush with death that he hadn't even been aware of.

No, something was definitely wrong. He had never raised his voice when speaking to her, no matter how angry he was, and he would certainly never have accused her of trying to kill him.

With some trepidation, she reached out a hand to feel his forehead, expecting to feel heat radiating from it. Of course there was none, for vampires didn't suffer common human ailments such as fevers or the flu. And Henry pulled away before she could really even rest her hand against his skin, eyes black as night.

"I can't believe you!" he growled, clambering out of bed and pointing an accusing finger at her. "After everything we've been through, you have the nerve to come here while I'm sleeping and open my blinds, and then save me?"

"Did you not hear a word I said?" Vicki cried, pulling the blankets up to her chin, cowering against the headboard. In any other situation, anger would not have frightened her at all, but Henry was vicious. Sparkling black eyes and barred fangs told her that antagonizing him would not result in anything favorable on her part. Still, she had to make him see reason.

"I didn't open your fucking blinds! Someone else must have!"

"Because someone else just let themselves in."

"Yes!"

Unlike the strong-willed, stubborn woman Henry was used to, he could see that Vicki was growing frantic. Her voice had risen to a pitch he had never before detected, and her eyes were wide with fear.

_How long can she keep this up?_, Henry wondered. How long could he?

* * *

"Um, yes… Do you think you could check on Mr.Fitzroy?" Mrs. Bowner asked, her voice laced with a hint of disdain. "He's making quite a bit of noise, and I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight." 

Greg rolled his eyes. "Of course, Mrs. Bowner. Right away."

The doorman hung up the phone and stepped out from behind the desk. He hated to bother Mr.Fitzroy while he was working, but he had received two calls that evening regarding the commotion coming from the penthouse.

Resignedly, Greg leaned against the cool metal of the elevator walls. The last time he had even tried to go near Mr.Fitzroy's room, a stunning blonde had opened the door, informing him that the apartment's owner was a bit "tied up." Greg had no doubt that he was.

As the doors opened to the 17th floor, Greg could hear yelling a few doors down, followed by a loud thud.

_Lovers quarrel. _He was certain. And not looking forward to interrupting it.

"Uh, Mr.Fitzroy?" he asked, knocking at the door.

The yelling continued, so Greg pounded a bit harder.

"Mr.Fitzroy?"

He took a step back as the door swung open, the beautiful blonde from earlier sticking her head into the hallway.

"Now's not a good time," she began.

"Oh. Uh, I just… I need to speak with Mr.Fitzroy. If you don't mind," he added hastily. "It's important."

Vicki hesitated for a moment, then held the door open for him.

"Sure."

The man in question strode out of the bedroom, ignoring Greg's trembling figure nearby.

"We aren't done here, Vicki."

"Would you give it a rest? I didn't open your fucking blinds!"

Greg raised an eyebrow.

_People certainly fight about the weirdest things.  
_

"If you didn't, who did?"

"The hell if I know!"

"Um, Mr.Fitzroy?" He wanted to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

Apparently neither one had heard him.

"Well then who's to say that you didn't do it?"

The young woman's face was flushed from screaming, and if Greg was willing to take a guess, she seemed more frightened than angry, regardless of how much she was yelling.

"Who's to say you weren't a dumbass and forgot to shut them yourself?"

"It's never happened before!"

"There's a first time for everything," she snapped.

"Mr. Fitzroy?"

"WHAT?!" the two both shouted, rounding on him, sending the poor doorman a few paces back.

"Uh… there's just… Um, there's been a few calls… People were, I mean, I was, uh, wondering if you could keep it down…?"

He didn't wait around for a response.

* * *

As much as Henry wanted to blame Vicki for what had happened, he was beginning to believe in her innocence. Her fear was reason enough. 

He watched her move anxiously about the apartment, eyes darting towards him whenever he moved.

Vicki's knees were weak, her blood not having had the adequate time to replenish itself quite yet. Her head was pounding, and to top it off, an angry vampire was watching her menacingly from across the room.

Henry knew that, regardless of whether or not Vicki had done it, she was in no shape to be up and about pacing and screaming at the top of her lungs. He could sense the amount of blood she had given him, could feel it coursing through his veins, and knew it had been nearly everything she had. In a sense, he owed her his life.

He turned to find that she had curled up on the couch, having worn herself out. He drew in a deep breath and focused on regaining his composure. When his heart rate had returned to normal, and his eyes no longer flashed a menacing shade of black, he made his way over and took a seat in the armchair across from her.

She opened one eye and peered at him from behind smudged glasses.

"I didn't do it," she muttered.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded.

"I know."

"If you knew, then why did you just spend two hours blaming me?" she asked, annoyed.

"When your life is in danger, you tend to ignore the facts," Henry explained. "I couldn't even consider someone else doing it."

"Because, of all the people in the world, I'd be the most obvious choice. Right." She sounded hurt.

Henry's eyes begged her to understand.

"Vicki, I'm sorry. Blaming you was wrong, and I apologize. And I'm sorry for scaring you."

A little to quickly, she replied, "You didn't."

Henry's lips twitched as a smile spread across his face. "You never could admit being afraid, could you?"

She shook her head. "Never."

Henry squatted down beside her, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, a worried look on his face. Vicki saw it, and reached out a hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"I'm willing to bet that whoever's been doing these horrible things to Mike and I is the one who opened your blinds," she said. "It's the only logical explanation."

Henry nodded.

"But how did Nathan get in-"

He cut himself off when Vicki's eyes narrowed, her hand tightening around his.

"You don't know that it was Nathan."

"Neither do you," Henry pointed out. "Look, I don't want to argue, but you have to face the fact that there's a chance it could be him."

"There are nearly two million people in this city," Vicki said, unwilling to surrender. "It could be any one of them."

"Yes. Or it could be him."

"I'm not in the mood for this," Vicki sighed in exasperation.

"You should be sleeping," Henry agreed, making his way into the bathroom and returning with a bottle of iron supplements.

"Here," he said, handing her two, along with a glass of water. "Take these, get a few hours of sleep, and then I'll drive you over to the hospital, alright? Go worry about Mike instead of us."

He said the last bit to himself.

Vicki swallowed the pills, then leaned back into the comfortable leather of the sofa.

"Just a few hours," she mumbled. "Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

Across town, Vicki's mother slept peacefully in a chair beside Mike Celluci's bed. He had expected Vicki to be there when he woke up, and was more than a bit disheartened to find his room void of any signs of her. He wondered if she had even been there at all, if she knew he was awake. He wondered if she even cared.

* * *

Five hours later, as promised, Henry pulled into the parking garage at Toronto General Hospital. Vicki wanted nothing more than to run to Mike's room, but her body would only allow for a slow walk. She linked arms with Henry, not wanting to bump into anything that may have resided in the darkened corners of the hallway. 

When the two arrived at Mike's room, they found it empty, except for Celluci himself, who sat propped up in bed, fingers running over the buttons on the remote.

"Mike!" Vicki exclaimed, hurrying to his side, missing the glare the detective shot in her direction. Henry saw it, and knew another fight was on the way. This one, however, did not directly involve him, so he discreetly backed out of the room and took a seat in the hallway, far enough away where he wouldn't be able to hear everything, yet close enough so that if Vicki needed him, he could be there almost instantaneously.

Vicki was chattering away, filling Mike in on the goings-on of the past few days when she was suddenly interrupted.

"Why haven't you been here?" Mike asked, turning the television off.

Vicki blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me. I woke up and your mother was here, Vicki. Your _mother_. Where were you?"

"At Henry's," she said without thinking, then flinched when she saw the anger in Mike's eyes.

"It's not what you think," she added hastily. "The person who's been attacking us is after Henry too, so-"

"So you just decided to keep him company while he slept instead of staying here with me. I get it."

"-so I decided to stop at his apartment this morning before coming here, and someone had opened his blinds, Mike. His skin was nearly burned off."

"He looked fine just now."

"That's because-"

"You let him drink your blood," Mike muttered.

"How did you-"

"Lucky guess."

"I am not going to have this conversation with you right now, Mike," Vicki huffed. "I've been here nearly the entire time you've been out. I sat by your side, I read you magazines, I begged you to wake up. I even prayed! And you know what I think of prayer, Mike. Then, the one night I go home, on my mother's orders, mind you, you just happen to wake up. That is NOT my fault."

Henry could hear Vicki raise her voice, and sighed. The silence had been too good to be true.

"But why did you have to go to Fitzroy's? And during the day, Vicki? What the hell. He sleeps during the day!"

"Because I had a feeling!" she yelled. "I had a fucking feeling, alright? And it was lucky I did, because Henry would be dead if I hadn't gone over there."

"I almost died, and you don't even care enough to stick around? What kind of a friend are you, Vicki?" Mike protested, clearly upset.

She glared at him. "Apparently a very bad one, according to a self-righteous son-of-a-bitch I happen to know."

"That's it," Mike snapped. "I've had it. Get out. If you don't have time to be here, fine. Go back to Henry's and stay with him. At least you'll get to fuck someone, or somet_hing_, tonight."

Vicki's jaw dropped. Henry stood in the doorway, a death-glare fixed on Mike, whose face had turned an awkward shade of purple from all the energy he had put into yelling.

Vicki's back was stiff as a board, and her voice was low when she spoke.

"Don't you _ever_," she growled, "say that again. Do you hear me?"

"Get out."

Very slowly, Vicki gathered her things and made her way to the door, shrugging off Henry's hand when he tried to assist her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, hurling a book at the wall behind Mike's head. She gave him one last glare over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. "I wish Dave hadn't called for help," she snarled. "I wish you'd fucking died in your sleep, Mike Celluci."

"Great, that makes two of us," he snapped. "I'd rather be dead than have to see you with that _thing_," he finished, pointing at Henry.

"Go to hell."

"Fuck you, Nelson. I thought you were leaving."

"I am," she retorted, her heels slapping angrily against the white tile.

The two men watched her leave, heard her crash into a cart that must have been lying in wait in the shadows.

"You owe her an apology," Henry said angrily.

"I don't owe her anything," Mike spat. "She'd rather save you than me, fine. I get it. Then I don't need her. You can have her, Fitzroy."

"You were in a coma," he argued. "She couldn't do anything besides sit here and wait. And she's still recovering from being shot. She needs rest. She wasn't lying when she said her mother sent her home."

"I know. I talked to her mom. She was here when I woke up, remember? Not Vicki."

"And that isn't Vicki's fault."

Mike glared at him. "You'd better go make sure she doesn't kill anyone."

"I think you should be more worried about that than anyone else, Detective," Henry said, staring pointedly at him.

Without another word, Henry hurried into the hall to make sure Vicki didn't run into any more supply carts.

Mike closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows. He refused to admit that what he'd said was uncalled for, that he had been completely justified in calling her out on being a sorry excuse for a friend.

Still, it didn't make him feel any better. He could feel moisture building up behind his eyes and swatted the tears away, swearing angrily in Italian.

If Vicki wanted to save the centuries old, royal bastard son of Henry VIII, fine. Then he wanted no part of her. He was done. As far as Mike Celluci was concerned, Vicki Nelson was no longer a part of his life.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Nathan asked a week later, seated across the table from Vicki at an expensive Japanese restaurant. "You haven't said much since the whole thing with Mike last week." 

Vicki took a bite of her sushi and shrugged, plastering a smile to her face. "Yep. Totally fine."

Nathan gave her a look.

"I'm serious. Mike's been an ass ever since I began working with Henry. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"So you get over guys really easily, then?" Nathan asked. "Because I would really like for this to work out, and you not to get angry with me and move on to someone else right away."

Vicki could have taken offence, but offered a genuine smile instead. "I'd like for us to work out, too."

"What about Henry? Aren't you two sort of seeing each other?"

Vicki shrugged. "Henry and I, we're complicated."

"How complicated are we talking?" Nathan pressed. "Are we talking could-be-in-a-relationship-if-I-weren't-so-stubborn complicated, or the-water's-under-the-bridge complicated?"

"Henry and I are complicated in that we could be together if I weren't so interested in seeing you."

Nathan grinned. "Well, I'm glad I'm worth something to someone," he teased.

Something had been nagging Vicki all evening, so she asked, "What've you been up to this past week? We haven't really gotten a chance to talk, what with Mike being in the hospital and all."

"You know me," Nathan said, raising his glass, "every waking moment's spent at the office."

_Of course he was at the office, you idiot. He has a normal job, like most normal men do. He wasn't off casting spells on people.  
_

"Sounds exciting," Vicki laughed, clinking her glass against his and taking a sip of the appletini she had ordered.

"You know it," he grinned. "Come on, let's dance."

_Remember what happened the last time he asked you that? Bad idea.  
_

"I'd better not," Vicki said, trying to ignore the voice in her head that sounded a lot like Henry's. "Doctor said I shouldn't really be doing anything physical for another week or two."

Nathan looked a bit disappointed, but nodded in understanding. "Right, sorry, I totally forgot."

"Let's just enjoy this incredible dinner," Vicki suggested, spearing a tuna roll with her chopstick. She ignored how stupid she thought she sounded.

"Good idea," Nathan said, and returned his attention to his plate.

* * *

Vicki waved goodbye as Nathan pulled away from her office a few hours later. She could sense Henry's presence nearby, but didn't acknowledge him until Nathan's car had turned the corner. 

"Hey," she said, turning to face him.

"Hi," he said, taking her hands in his. "You look nice."

"Thanks." She pulled away.

"Date go well?"

"Mhm."

"Did you ask him where he's been lately?"

"Yes."

Henry tried to remain patient.

"And?"

"And nothing."

"So he didn't admit he was a vampire."

"No."

"Did you even ask?"

"No."

"Vicki!"

"What?" she asked innocently, unlocking the front door and stepping inside.

Henry followed close behind, growing annoyed with her one-word responses. She had been like this ever since the fight in the hospital between her and Mike, and it was getting old.

"So you aren't going to tell me anything about your date?"

"Nothing to tell," she said, draping her coat on the back of a kitchen chair, pouring herself a glass of milk, then offered him one.

"No thanks," he sniffed, pulling himself up onto the counter.

Vicki shrugged, leaning casually against the fridge as she drained the glass.

Henry watched her, his eyes weary. While she wasn't quite pushing him away, she wasn't exactly trying to make things work anymore, either.

"I called the hospital when I woke up," he offered.

"Oh?" There was an iciness to her voice as she glanced up at him.

"They're releasing Mike on Tuesday." It was only Thursday.

"That's nice."

Henry rolled his eyes.

"I know you're mad at him, Vicki, but what did _I _ do?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you won't say more than five words at a time, you haven't called, and you don't really seem to care when I come over."

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"Like Mike."

"Not Mike," she corrected him, pulling her heels off and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. "Mike and I are done. Over. Finito."

"You say that now…"

"Don't start with me," Vicki warned. "I don't need to be mad at you, too."

"Might as well be," Henry muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He jumped down and headed for the door. "I need to get going. Night, Vicki."

She didn't try to stop him.

* * *

Mike lay in bed, staring at the popcorn ceiling above him. He had always hated popcorn ceilings and the way they made a room feel as if it were stuck in a time warp. 

Time, he noticed, was something he had a lot of lately. Vicki's mother had gone home the day before, and the only visitors he had now were the nurses who came once every two hours, on the hour, and Dave, who stopped by every night after work with a cold cup of coffee and a half-eaten donut.

After the fight he and Vicki had had nearly a week and a half ago, he didn't expect her to come back any time soon, though he was certain she would eventually cave and apologize.

"Did it ever occur to you that she's waiting for _you _to apologize?" Henry asked from the doorway.

Mike sighed. He had wanted visitors, not Henry Fitzroy.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped. "I'm not in the mood for dealing with your bullshit right now, Fitzroy."

"I'm not here to bullshit you, Detective. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I came."

"Well, you chose the wrong room to inhabit. I don't feel like talking to you, so you can leave now."

"She won't talk to me," Henry said in an uncharacteristic rush.

"What?"

"She… won't… talk… to… me…" Henry repeated very slowly, lest the recuperating detective was unable to comprehend simple sentences.

Mike shot him a look.

"Too bad. Goodbye."

"See, here's the thing. She isn't talking to me because she's mad at you," Henry explained. "And I think Nathan has something to do with this, but she won't cooperate."

"That's not my problem, Fitzroy. Figure it out on your own. I thought you had some mystical power of persuasion."

"It doesn't work on her."

"Like I said, too bad."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Look. I know you hate me, and I know you're mad at Vicki for not being here when you woke up, but she's in danger. We all are. If you really aren't scared of death, fine, but I'm not going to let Nathan kill her."

This was what Mike Celluci hated. No matter how much he despised Henry Fitzroy, he obviously felt a sense of responsibility to the people he cared for, and was willing to do anything for them, even if it meant breaking into a hospital room to talk to the one person who hated him more than anything on God's green earth.

And as much as Mike tried to push thoughts of Vicki from his mind, he had spent the entire day dealing with his failure in that regard._ She_ could have attacked him, for all he cared, and he would still have loved her.

He hated the way she jumped head first into dangerous situations, hated the way she mistook his concern for pity. The way she tried to ignore her feelings had always bothered him, and always put the two of them in precarious positions when Mike dared bring it up. There were skeletons in Vicki's closet that no one should ever have to deal with; which, he noted, she didn't, having locked that part of her away with the horrible memories of her childhood.

She was foolish, she was stubborn, strong-willed and complicated, but Mike knew what was behind the walls she had built around herself, and he was willing to take the time to break them down. Fighting, he knew, was not the way to win a woman's affection, but Vicki wasn't the typical woman, and she didn't listen to him unless his voice was ten decibels higher than her own.

He shot Henry a weary look.

"So, you, uh… You really think this Nathan guy's behind everything?"

"Don't you?"

Mike shrugged. He had been jealous, certainly, but accusing Nathan of witchcraft and near murder seemed a bit much.

"I don't know."

"Well, I do. So how do I convince Vicki to talk to him?"

Mike snorted. "You think you can actually convince Vicki to do something? I'd love to see you try. Good luck, sport."

Henry was growing impatient with Mike's wisecracking.

"Okay, _detective_, what do you suggest I do?"

"I suggest you leave Vicki out of it and fumble about on your own. If you've been working with her as closely as you say, you should know where to start."

"I'm not a half-blind ex-cop, Celluci," Henry reminded him. "I can't just call up the police department and demand to look at case files."

Mike grinned wickedly. "No, I guess you can't. Oh well. It was nice chatting with you, vampire. I assume you can show yourself out."

Henry had been dismissed, and he knew it. With a smug look on his face, Mike glued his eyes to the television, waiting for him to leave. But Henry didn't get up; he remained where he was, leaning casually against the wall across from Mike's bed. After ten minutes, it grew impossible to ignore him.

"What?!" Mike sighed in exasperation. "Do you not understand when someone asks you to leave?"

"We have to help her."

"Yeah, maybe we do. But I'm not your partner in crime, I don't associate with vampires. If you want to save the world, do it on your own time."

"You really are a selfish son-of-a-bitch," Henry snapped, repeating Vicki's earlier insult.

"Well, fuck you, too," Mike smiled sarcastically. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

* * *

Coreen peered over the top of the book she was reading, her eyes following Vicki as the older woman paced back and forth across the kitchen. She had been at it for nearly an hour, and Coreen wondered if one really could wear a hole through the floor. 

"Are you planning on going to the hospital today?" she asked, treading lightly.

Vicki shot her a look. "No."

"They're discharging Mike. You don't want to be there?"

"Nope," she said again.

"So I take it you two still aren't talking."

"Yep."

"Has he apologized?"

"What do you think?"

"I guess that would be a no," Coreen mumbled to herself.

Lately, taking to Vicki had grown similar to talking to a brick wall. All Coreen received were short, concise comments and instructions, never anything more. She had spoken to Henry about it, and he had noticed the same trend in Vicki's growing silence. Both were annoyed, to say the least.

"How's Nathan?" Coreen pressed.

"Fine."

"Just fine? Not great, not wonderful?"

"He's good."

"Good. That's all I get? Good? Vicki, what's wrong with you?!" Coreen asked. "Ever since you and Mike had that huge fight you won't talk to anyone!"

"I'm fine, Coreen," Vicki snapped. "I'd be even better if you'd stop letting Henry convince you to talk to me about Nathan. He's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. Let it go."

Coreen stared after her, flinching when the office door slammed shut a few moments later.

* * *

The figure grinned, beside itself with glee. It hadn't originally intended to cast more spells upon the woman, but it had been necessary in order to push the other men out of her life. 

It had been more than a little upset to find that the vampire had survived his brief encounter with sunlight, and while it would have been easy to put him out of his misery, it was more enjoyable to watch him and the other man squirm at Vicki's cruel words.

_Who needed spells and incantations when you had an angry woman on your hands?_

She was lying on an old, moth-eathen victorian couch, massaging her temples. She looked strangely fragile, and for a moment the figure forgot its original intent, watching, fascinated, as Vicki swiped angrily at her eyes. The spell was wearing off, and her real emotions were returning. Though the figure couldn't imagine what she had to cry about. A woman with three men throwing themselves at her, a good career and an expensive apartment all to herself, it couldn't even begin to comprehend the reason for this woman feeling so alone.

The hooded figure hated moments like these, where weakness set in as it was reminded of days long since gone, when it had been a human as well, capable of unlimited emotions, able to cry, able to walk freely in sunshine without the use of complex spells.

It missed being able to enjoy the breeze, or taste the salt of ocean spray. It had been centuries since it had ever really loved, and it had found it to be a constant struggle not to be angry with a woman who could so easily have chosen love if she wasn't so foolish and stubborn.

Watching her now, it decided it could wait one more day to cast another spell. Let her bask in her misery and muddled life. There would be time enough for casting spells and revenge later.

* * *

Vicki's eyes snapped open as she heard the blinds knock together in the wind. 

_Must've fallen asleep, _she realized. Night had fallen upon the city of Toronto, and outside her window, streetlights were lit.

The curtains whispered in the breeze, and she could smell spring. She also smelled Henry, and craned her neck to see where he was. This was rather difficult, however, when she realized that her glasses were not where she had expected, and momentary panic set in. She hated being so dependent on something as simple as a lens, and hated Henry even more for his naturally incredible night vision.

"Here," he said, realizing what she was searching for. "You fell asleep with them on."

Vicki's fingers curled around the cool metal frames and slid them up the bridge of her nose, then blinked once, twice, and focused her gaze on Henry's face.

"Hi."

He smiled down at her, thankful she didn't seem eager to fight. "Hi. How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Ready for these stitches to come out," she replied honestly. "They itch."

"I wouldn't know," Henry reminded her. He had never needed to visit a doctor in all his 450 years. Stitches were new to him.

"Hey, how's, uh… How's Mike? Is he doing okay?"

Henry raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to talk to him."

"What?"

"You've been avoiding him like the plague. Why so interested all of the sudden?"

"He was discharged today, Henry. I just wanted to know if he was alright."

"I wouldn't know. I'd assume he's fine." He shrugged.

"Right. Of course he is," Vicki reminded herself. "He's fine."

Henry was watching her closely, and she could feel his eyes boring holes in her chest. She caught his gaze with her own, not letting him look away.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Henry looked suspicious. "What's going on, Vicki? I can see the wheels turning."

She shrugged. "You tell me."

He didn't say anything.

"Henry, I'm not up for the silent game," she sniffed, rolling her eyes. "If you have something to say, say it."

"Okay, well, it just seems weird that you want to suddenly watch over Mike when you haven't done much besides keep to yourself and swear about him lately. That's all."

"I'm mad at him, Henry, I don't hate him."

"You haven't been talking to anyone, much less Mike."

She shrugged. "I just haven't been feeling like myself. A lot's going on right now."

"That may be the biggest understatement of the century," Henry announced, reaching out and tugging lightly at a wisp of hair. "You're sure you're okay?"

Vicki nodded. "Never better."

She clambered off the couch and grabbed the leather jacket hanging in the armoire.

"Listen, I have some stuff I need to do. Can I call you tomorrow?"

_She's shutting me out. Great. Maybe things _are_ back to normal…  
_

"Sure. Good night, Vicki."

She smiled at him, and waited until the apartment filled with silence before she let out the breath she had been holding since she'd woken up.

She felt strangely out of place in her own home, and it was unsettling. Everything was as it always had been, but it felt as if she didn't belong. She almost felt claustrophobic, but had learned to deal with those feelings when her eyesight limited her to a narrow tunnel of vision; claustrophobia had become normalcy to her.

She had decided, the moment her eyes opened, that she needed to see Mike, regardless of how mad they were at each other. She wouldn't have to deal with skirting around nurses and doctors, tubes and machinery, and that gave her a small dose of comfort.

Vicki found herself outside of Mike's house and hesitated when she raised a hand to knock. She'd brought her keys and knew knocking wasn't necessary, but there she stood on the front step, alone, bathed in the harsh light of the porch lights, unable to bring herself to just let herself in like she had many nights before.

_Stop being an idiot, Nelson,_ she scolded herself. _Just knock on the damn door. It's not like he isn't going to be home.  
_

Feeling foolish, Vicki rapped loudly against the heavy oak door and waited for the sound of approaching footsteps. It took a few moments, her ear pressed against the wood, but she eventually heard Mike shuffling towards the door to answer.

_If he knew it was me, would he actually bother?_, she wondered.

The look on his face told her nothing when he yanked the door open. He just looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain her need to be on his doorstep at 10pm.

"Hi," Vicki said tentatively. "Uh, how're you feeling?"

"Shitty. And how might you be?" Mike asked sardonically.

_Well, at least he didn't slam the door in my face.  
_

"Not great." She peered over his shoulder. "Can I come in?"

"Depends. Are you here to argue?"

Vicki shrugged noncommittally. "I don't have any arguments planned, but if _you_ do, well…"

Mike tried to hide the smallest of smiles that was fighting to break through and stepped back, allowing her to slip past him.

"You look good," Vicki noticed. "Better than before, anyway."

"I could say the same about you."

She laughed then. "We'd make a great couple. We both look deader than Henry ever has."

Her laughter faded when she saw the look on Mike's face.

"Sorry."

He ran a hand through his hair, making his way to the living room couch and falling onto it, wrapping a warn quilt around himself.

"What's going on, Vic?" he asked, his voice strained. "We haven't spoken in nearly two weeks, and then you show up, out of the blue, expecting everything to be fine?"

"No, not fine," she said, holding up a hand. "Just not awful."

"Vicki, you chose a bastard prince over me. How am I supposed to feel?"

"I didn't choose anyone. Stop assuming I want Henry."

"So you don't want him?" He sounded hopeful.

Vicki sighed. "I don't know."

She looked into Mike's eyes and saw frustration brewing.

"Look, Mike, I told you. I don't know what I want, and I don't know when I'm going to figure it out. Just… be patient, okay?"

"Fuck that," Mike retorted. "You and I are two of the most impatient people on this earth, Nelson, and you know it."

Vicki smiled. She knew.

"I can't promise you an answer any time soon," she said honestly. "But I can offer you a drink." She glanced towards the kitchen. "You still a whiskey drinker?"

He smiled. She knew he was.

"Coming right up."

* * *

It watched her from the backyard, eyes following her every move as she passed from view. 

"Damn it," the figure whispered into the dark.

It moved around the side of the house, and finally found her in the kitchen, searching for two glasses amongst the cupboards full of coffee mugs and mismatched dishware.

It could feel the vampire fast approaching, and hurriedly whispered the incantation.

Vicki came back into the living room, two glasses of whiskey in her hands.

"Thanks," Mike said, accepting the one she offered.

"Welcome."

They sat awkwardly across from one another, Mike staring into his glass, Vicki downing hers in one gulp.

Mike raised an eyebrow.

She looked up then, and smiled. Mike didn't know what that meant.

"You know, I was thinking," she said, setting her glass down and getting up. "Henry and I, we're never going to be able to make anything work. He's so… old. But he'll never die."

Mike sighed. "Why are you telling me this?"

He was quite aware of the fact that Vicki was slowly getting closer, and was walking in that seductive way she had when she really wanted something.

"Because I can't be with Henry," she whispered, her face inches away. "We're too different."

Mike's eyes sparkled, common sense forgotten.

"So you choose…"

Her lips cut off his question, while answering it at the same time.

* * *

From the window, Henry saw everything. Saw her kiss him, watched as he pulled her closer, watched her crawl on top of him. He couldn't tare his eyes away when Mike pulled her shirt over her head, felt his skin crawl at the sight of a long line of stitches down her chest. Felt his heart break as he heard the words he had only heard in nightmares. 

"I choose you."


	6. Chapter 6

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Vicki opened her eyes and stared into the foggy pre-dawn light. She could feel crisp cotton sheets wrapped around her, and she pulled them tighter as a cool breeze drew the curtains across the window.

She suddenly became aware of a familiar presence pressed into the small of her back, and caught a glimpse of a familiar hand, rough from work, draped across her waist. Warm breath brushed against her neck, stirring the hair that lay there.

_Oh god...  
_

Careful not to disturb the man lying next to her, Vicki scooted to the edge of the bed and disentangled herself from the sheets. She knew what she was going to see when she turned around, and there was a sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

Sure enough, Mike Celluci was fast asleep, his naked torso gleaming in the faint light coming in through the window. He looked frail, dark bruises marring his body, but Vicki couldn't help but notice how content he seemed, a small smile spread across his face, even in sleep.

Guilt was beginning to set in as Vicki tiptoed to the bathroom and closed the door silently behind her. She leaned over the sink and peered into the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and mussed hair stared back at her and she sighed.

_How much did I drink last night?_, she wondered. She couldn't remember.

What she _did _ remember was wanting last night to happen just as much as Mike had. Every kiss seared her skin, each thrust gouged into her memory. It had been nearly two years since she had shared a bed with her former partner, and while it had felt right eight hours ago, she couldn't help but feel as if she'd made a terrible mistake.

She turned on the sink and splashed cold water on her face, letting the droplets run down her neck and drip onto the floor. She rummaged in the medicine cabinet for a bottle of aspirin, popped two into her mouth, and swallowed. Her throat was dry and she was feeling sick to her stomach; she wasn't sure if it was due to alcohol or guilt.

Stepping back into the bedroom, she fumbled for her clothes, careful not to wake Mike, who was snoring quietly into his pillow. She knew leaving probably wasn't the best idea, but she couldn't stay. She couldn't deal with the look of hope and sudden expectation she knew she would see in Mike's eyes when they opened. She would have a lot of explaining to do, and she was certain Mike probably wouldn't speak to her after she had said her peace, but she had no idea why she had let the previous night happen. It felt as if someone had invaded her body and she had merely succumbed.

Trying to piece everything together, she decided against taking a cab, and instead found a seat on the TTC, heading uptown towards Bloor Street. She pressed her cheek against the cool glass, watching the world rush by. She felt as if she were trapped in time, unable to get past that brief moment before one second became another. The world kept moving, but she could not figure out where she was, who she was, what she was doing. She knew she was Victoria Nelson, and understood that she was on a train, heading home, but something was missing. What had possessed her to have sex with Mike, to ignore all rational thought and just let everything go?

_And, Christ, what about Henry? _

Somehow, she had a feeling he already knew what had happened. She could only pray to a god she didn't believe in that he remained clueless. It was futile, for she had been able to feel his presence last night, but had been unable to do anything in regards to it. At the time, she hadn't even cared. But she didn't think she could deal with Henry's anger, along with Mike's, so she prayed anyway.

At just that moment, her phone began to ring. Vicki pulled it out of her pocket and felt her heart pound. It was Mike. She watched it vibrate in her hands, unable to answer.

"Sorry, Mike," she whispered, shoving the device back into her pocket.

Vicki had a feeling she would be apologizing for quite some time.

* * *

"I choose you. _I choose you?! _Well, la de fucking da, Vicki! Apparently that meant shit, since it's now 7 in the a.m. and I'm here by myself. Typical Nelson M.O.; get close to someone, then bugger of and disappear. You'd better call me back, Vicki. And I mean it." 

Vicki sighed and threw her phone onto the bed, wrapping a towel around herself. She had always been a compulsive phone answerer, but seeing Mike's name flash across her caller ID had instantaneously changed her mind. She had played back his message and was thankful she hadn't had to face his rage first hand. Half of what he'd said was lost amongst his yelling, and Vicki felt her chest tighten, knowing she was the cause of his anger. She usually was, but most other times she had found a reason to justify her actions. This time there was no justification, no excuse. She had slept with him and had disappeared before he woke up, end of story.

Not trusting herself to call, she sent him a brief text that involved the words 'I'm sorry' and 'come by tonight.' Also, she called Henry and left a similar message on his machine, comforted by the fact that she was certain she would not have to speak with him for another twelve hours.

The phone in the office began to ring, and Vicki silently thanked whoever resided in the clouds for the distraction. She hurried downstairs, still wrapped in a towel, and picked up the receiver.

"Vicki Nelson investigations."

"I said call, not text," Mike yelled.

Taken aback, Vicki hurriedly slammed the handset back into its cradle.

"Jesus H. Christ," she muttered. "Scare the crap out of me, why don't you?"

The phone rang again, and while she had a sneaking suspicion who was on the other end, she couldn't resist. If it was a client, she needed to answer.

"Vicki Nel-"

"So you have sex with me, then leave before I wake up, and now you won't return my phone calls? Sounds like a typical Vicki Nelson one night stand to me."

"Mike, can we not talk about this now?"

The voice on the other line rose. "And when are we going to talk about it, huh? Tomorrow? Next week? A year from now? No, let me guess; Never."

"Not never. Tonight. But Henry needs to be here."

"You're joking, right?"

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" Vicki put her forehead to the desk. "He knows."

"Like I give a shit," Mike snapped.

Vicki's voice was muffled from where she lay sprawled across the desk. "I just need to talk to you both at once. Come by after sunset."

She cut off his reply by hanging up with a satisfactory click.

* * *

"Goddamn it, Vicki!" Mike shouted, throwing the receiver across the room. "God fucking damnit!" 

A slew of Italian profanities quickly followed as he paced back and forth across the bedroom, trying to ignore the smell of sex that pervaded his senses. Her scent was everywhere, enveloping him, reminding him of what had happened. Of what he had let happen against his better judgment.

His head pounded, his heart raced, and he felt as if he would never be whole again if Vicki had not actually chosen him. He had tried to convince himself that she had been drunk, that they both had, but Vicki had had one glass, he hadn't even finished his own. So that excuse was moot.

He had then tried to make himself believe that she had actually wanted it to happen, that she hadn't been toying with his emotions like the selfish bitch he sometimes considered her to be. He had failed to convince himself of that as well.

Any reason he found for her leaving was quickly replaced with a better reason for her to stay, and in the end all Mike could find within himself was anger, both with himself and her.

It didn't help that what had gone on between them had been more incredible than he'd remembered. Every curve of her body was just as he'd remembered it, though everything seemed strangely unfamiliar. She had changed, certainly, and was still weak from her healing wounds, but the Vicki Nelson he remembered was still buried beneath the jeans and t-shirts. Her sun-kissed skin had blended perfectly with his own, and he had whispered "I love you" in her ear as she thrust against him. She had repeated those three words, and he had believed her.

Now he felt like a fool.

And to make matters worse, she wanted to talk to him about it, but she had to have Henry there, too.

"Fucking Fitzroy," Mike grunted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, then standing once more, unable to sit still.

He didn't know if Henry had seen them together, and, frankly, he didn't really care. However, Vicki seemed to think he had, and she cared a great deal, which told Mike more than he needed, or wanted, to know.

She had made her decision. Deep down he knew. And the voice that so often spoke logically to him was silent. He had been made a fool, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that.

* * *

Henry listened to Vicki's message with a heavy heart. His chest ached, but not from a bad dream or a spell someone had cast. His heart was breaking in two, he could feel it. She had betrayed him, betrayed his trust, his undying love. And now she wanted to talk to him about it? 

"Henry… hi… Look, I know you were there last night. I know you followed me to Mike's house. And please don't play dumb, it'll only make this worse." There was a long pause in which Henry had almost thought she'd hung up. Then the message continued. "I have to talk to you. I… I know you probably don't want to see me, but… Actually, I can pretty much guarantee that you don't want to see me… But anyway, I need to. See you, that is. I asked Mike to come over, too." He heard her sigh. "I'm sorry, Henry. I'm really, really sorry. Please come by tonight, okay?"

There was a soft click as she hung up, then the machine beeped, signifying the end of her message.

"Great," he said, speaking in the general direction of the phone. "Yes, Vicki, I'd love to see you right now, if only to rip your heart out, like you did to mine. A date with you and Mike? Sure, I'd love to make it a threesome. While we're at it, maybe we all should be naked, and I'll just suck the life from both of you."

He ran a hand through matted hair and drew in a shaky breath. He had never felt so alone, so betrayed by anyone, yet he couldn't help but be drawn to the raw pain in her voice. She had sounded even more miserable than he, if that was possible. He wasn't looking forward to seeing her, and he would have to keep his temper in check upon Celluci's arrival, but he needed to see her, needed an explanation. She sounded as if she had one, though he had a feeling it would not be very good. He was willing to risk it though, for love.

* * *

Vicki sat in the middle of the couch, legs crossed, staring blankly at the wall across from her, waiting. 

_I wonder if this is how people will feel when the apocalypse is coming.  
_

It certainly felt as if her world could crumble around her at any second. She almost wished the moth-eaten fabric would envelope her and swallow her whole.

But it was too late for that now. She could feel him enter on a breeze, ignoring the curtains as they whipped and cracked against the wall.

His pain was written all over his face, and Vicki felt a lump growing in her throat. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days, even paler than usual, if that were at all possible.

The two stared at each other, Henry unable to form words, Vicki unable to say them. A mutual feeling of pain and disappointment passed between them, and Vicki sniffed.

_You can NOT cry, Nelson, _she scolded herself. _Not until they're both gone.  
_

She heard a car idling outside, and knew Mike had arrived. His footsteps were heavy on the front steps, and she waited for the tell-tale knock.

Heaving herself off the couch, she slowly made her way to the front door and pulled it open, turning to return to the office before she could look into his eyes and see the pain she knew resided there.

She sat down, once again, on the sofa, and motioned for the two men to find a seat, though neither of them acknowledged her offer.

She peered up at them in the dim light, unable to read the expressions on their faces.

"Um, first of all, I owe you both an apology," she began, her voice echoing loudly in the silence.

"Damn right you do," Mike muttered.

Vicki shot him a look, though Mike couldn't read it. He felt as if he were standing before a complete stranger.

"Mike, I'm sorry for what I did last night. And I'm sorry I left this morning, but I couldn't deal with it. I felt guilty and suffocated, and I had to go."

While the word 'sorry' had been used multiple times, Mike didn't think she sounded very apologetic. Though he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"And Henry, I'm sorry you had to see everything. I… I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now."

_She has no idea I could hear everything, too,_ he realized. _What kind of sick joke is this? _

"But I think I know why I did what I did."

Mike lost it.

"Vicki Nelson, don't you DARE try and explain away last night as if it meant nothing!" he shouted. "You do this every fucking time! You always find a reason to be right, but there aren't any excuses this time! If you're in love with Henry Fucking Fitzroy, then last night's events make you an adulterous bitch. If not, it just makes you a bitch. Stop being so fucking selfish!"

Vicki's mouth was hanging open, having been about to speak, but Mike's tirade had cut her short. She stared at him, unable to form coherent thoughts. He was right, she knew it, but it didn't make the words hurt any less.

When she regained her voice, she drew in a breath to steady herself, then continued.

"I was under a spell."

"A spell. Right. We've already heard that one, Vic, remember?" Mike growled. "You can't blame every single one of your character flaws on magic!"

Henry remained where he was amongst the shadows, pain still evident in his eyes, but something else was there. Vicki searched his gaze, desperately praying for even an inkling of understanding.

After long moments of searching, she had found nothing but sadness and pain and withdrew into herself again.

_You have to explain, _the voice reminded her. _You have to make them see what's happening! _

_ How do I do that, when I'm not even sure myself? _

She drew in a shuddering breath, drawing strength from somewhere deep inside herself, and was surprised when her voice sounded much calmer than she felt.

"I know you're both too mad at me to look past it right now, but I really think someone has been putting a spell on me. Henry, you said yourself that I haven't been acting like myself."

Her eyes begged him to understand.

"You said you had a lot on your mind. Obviously much more than you let on," he added, staring daggers into Mike's chest.

Vicki continued her explanation, pretending she hadn't heard Henry's response.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, and it's the only logical explanation I can come up with."

"Other than you being a whore?"

Once again, Vicki ignored their comments.

"Look. Someone's out to get us. All three of us. If we don't stick together, someone's going to die. Now, I don't know about either of you, but being under a spell makes the most sense to me. First of all, it's magic, and I obviously can't block it. Secondly, if I were under a spell, it would _appear _to be me doing all of these things, even if I didn't want to. It would explain why I haven't been myself lately."

"You _have _been doing all these things," Henry reminded her.

But though his voice was filled with condemnation, Vicki saw forgiveness in his eyes. He believed her; at least a little.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I have. I'm not going to lie and say someone else tried to seduce you last night, Mike," she said, looking up into blue eyes that flashed dangerously at the reminder. "But I remember waking up and wondering what had possessed me to do it."

"Oh, great, Vicki. Thanks. I'm so glad to hear you say that you wanted no part of last night," Mike said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Really. Thanks. I'm so glad it meant nothing to you."

Vicki's eyes darkened, grew tortured.

"It meant a whole lot, Mike," she whispered, her voice rough. "More than you know."

Mike turned around then, eyes narrowed, searching her gaze for any sign of the love he knew she had for another.

Vicki got up and came to stand before him, cupping his face in her hands. She leaned in so that their noses were touching, ignoring the anger she could feel growing on the other side of the room.

"I love you, Mike. I always have, and I always will. But I can't make a decision right now, okay? You just have to trust that, when I do, I'm making the right one."

She turned to Henry, and wasn't surprised when he tried to pull away from the strong grip she had on his wrists.

"The other morning, when you nearly burned to death, and I stayed with you all day, I said a lot of things. Things I wish you'd been able to hear," she whispered. Their lips were so close they nearly kissed each time she spoke. "But right now I can't deal with this, Henry, you have to know that. Right now I need to focus on keeping the three of us alive."

She turned to Mike then.

"I can't do that without the two of you."

Mike folded his arms across his chest in defiance.

"Oh no, Vicki. I have had _enough_. I'm not going to help you. If you want to save the world, I want no part of it." He headed towards the door. "Come to think of it, I don't want any part of you, either."

He punctuated his sentence by slamming it behind him.

"Mike…" Vicki called reproachfully.

He didn't return.

Vicki sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose.

"Henry, I'm really… I can't tell you how sorry I am," she mumbled. "I don't know how it happened."

He took a seat beside her, though it felt to Vicki as if he were still on the other side of the room, and asked, "Do you really believe it was a spell?"

She nodded.

"I wouldn't have slept with Mike," she said. "I remember feeling as if someone else were doing it, not me. It was like having an out-of-body experience while still being inside your body." She glanced over at him. "Does that make sense?"

"Not really," Henry said, though his voice held the faintest hint of a smile.

"I just… I just need you to understand that I didn't choose Mike," Vicki pleaded. "I didn't."

She felt a hand tighten around her own, and looked down in surprise. Henry's fingers were laced through hers, and she drew solace in his understanding.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

Henry placed a hand on either side of her face, rubbing his thumbs lightly against her cheeks, and stared deep into her eyes. He wanted so desperately to believe her, but if she were under a spell now, what she had just said would mean nothing.

His eyes were the color of night, but she didn't pull away. She waited patiently for him to discover whatever it was he was looking for.

After long moments, she became aware of the fact that her heart had begun to beat faster, and that Henry's face had grown intimately closer.

_There's only one way to know for sure,_ Henry knew.

Ever so slowly, he leaned in, pressing his body against hers, their lips a breath apart. She lay on the sofa, his body resting atop hers, one hand caught in a tangle of blonde, the other caressing her face in a way that made her flesh burn. Shivers danced across her skin, and he felt her tremble beneath him.

"Henry," she whispered, unsure.

He would be sure for the both of them.

He pressed his lips against hers, and felt her succumb. Her fingers lost themselves in his hair and she pulled him closer, trying to take in as much of him as she could.

Henry could feel his need for her, could feel her return his love in each kiss, in the way her eyelashes brushed his cheek, in the way she clung to him as if letting go would bring her world crashing down around her.

He pulled away and caught her gaze. This was the woman he loved, who he would do anything for. Who he would forgive.

"It wasn't you," he whispered.

She shook her head.

"No, it wasn't."

She smiled at him then, and he couldn't help but grin. He could feel a weight lifted off his shoulders as certainty set it. She loved him.

He rolled to the side so they could share the width of the couch, one hand tracing patters across her arm.

"The other day, you said you wished I could have heard what you'd said."

Vicki smiled into the curve of his neck.

"I told you that I loved you."

Henry's heart skipped a beat.

"Say it so I can hear it," he begged.

Vicki propped herself up on one arm so she could stare down at him, a sad smile lighting her face.

"I love you, Henry Fitzroy."

Henry closed his eyes and drank in her words. He had waited so long to hear them that he almost couldn't believe it. But when he opened his eyes and saw the sadness in her, he knew something was wrong.

"What is it?"

She sighed. "I love you, Henry. And not in that stupid we-should-just-be-friends kind of way. In a big way that makes it hard for me to think of anything else."

"So what's the problem?"

"You're a _vampire_, Henry. How could this ever work?"

He understood her fear, for he didn't have an answer.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, tugging at a strand of hair. "But I'm willing to fight for us if you are."

She leaned her head against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath the sweater he wore.

"Right now I have to fight for Mike, too," she said quietly.

Henry stiffened visibly.

"Why?"

"Because I just broke his heart, Henry, and he knows it. I told him I couldn't choose, and I lied. He knew all along, yet he never gave up hoping that I would love him back." She sighed. "I love him, Henry. Just not enough."

"I still don't understand why you have to fight for him, not for us."

"I need to fight for Mike, Henry, because he means the world to me. He's the person that reminds me of what I used to be, and how my life has changed." She caught Henry's gaze before continuing. "But you _are _ my world, Henry. And I'm scared, but we'll deal with that later. Right now I can't fight for us because I need to fight for Mike, too. I need to keep everyone alive, and that doesn't leave much time for figuring things out between us."

Henry nodded in understanding. She had said it, she loved him. It was a step he had never thought her capable of taking, so for now he would be content in knowing that the woman he loved with every fiber of his being felt the same way.

"Okay," he said, pulling himself into a sitting position. "Okay. We'll talk about 'us' later."

Vicki wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in the thick cables of his sweater.

"Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

"Hi, Nathan? It's Vicki." 

After Henry had left, Vicki knew what was next. Next was calling Nathan and canceling their dinner plans for the following evening.

"Hi! How're you feeling?"

"I'm doing alright," Vicki replied, trying to keep her tone light. "Listen, the reason I'm calling is about dinner tomorrow."

"Did you change your mind? I know you wanted Chinese, not Italian. We can still make reservations somewhere else."

Vicki sighed. He was so generous, and she felt awful having to explain that she'd chosen Henry over him.

Clearing her throat, she tried to keep the tremor in her voice at bay.

"Actually, I need to cancel."

There was a pause.

"Oh. Did a really important case come up?"

He could hear the rejection in her voice when she answered.

"Not exactly."

"You chose Mike."

It wasn't a question.

"No, actually. I chose Henry, but you didn't need to know that. I feel really awful about this, Nathan, but I didn't know a week ago how I would feel today."

"You're sure you won't change your mind tomorrow?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

Vicki smiled sadly.

"No, I don't think so."

"Oh. Um…."

"Nathan, I'm really sorry," Vicki consoled him. "You're a great guy, but Henry and I… we're complicated. I guess I need a little complicated in my life."

Nathan sounded upset, but seemed determined not to let her rejection spoil his otherwise good mood.

"I guess so. Well, I, uh… I'm glad I got the chance to get to know you," he finished lamely. "You're really great."

"You too," Vicki replied. "Bye, Nathan."

She hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment before turning it back on and dialing Mike's number. She had been trying to reach him all morning, and hadn't been surprised when he'd refused to pick up. If she had been in his position, she would have reacted in much the same way.

The answering machine picked up after the first ring.

"Celluci. Leave a message."

"Mike, it's Vicki. Call me back, okay?"

She knew he wouldn't. She had a feeling the two of them wouldn't be on speaking terms for quite some time.

And she wished she had time to consider everything that had transpired between her and Henry the night before, but she couldn't worry about that either. What she needed to worry about was who had put her under a spell, who had attacked Mike and Henry, and who had shot her while she slept. Her problems with Mike seemed insignificant in comparison.

She pulled a book off the shelf and set it down on the desk. It opened to a familiar page, her tattoos staring back at her from the parchment. She found nothing new or enlightening about the drawings or their explanations, so she flipped to the index and ran a finger down one column.

"Spells and incantations… demon possession… idols… the occult… Where the hell is information on dreams and nearly being killed in then?" she sighed in exasperation.

But no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing. She had read the entire book cover to cover, yet seemed to think she had missed something. She was sure she hadn't, but she continued to hope.

When her eyes grew blurry, watering from focusing too hard on the miniscule text, she pushed the book aside and leaned back in her chair, yawning. She had been through an entire range of emotions over the past few days, and she was exhausted. An appointment had been scheduled to remove her stitches, but it wasn't for another week, and she still had a limited amount of energy to work with on a day-to-day basis. She wouldn't admit it, but climbing the stairs to her bedroom each night was work enough. Having to save her own life, plus two others, well, that was pushing the limit. Still, she was determined to figure out who was trying to ruin her life, and if that meant being a little tired, she could deal with it. She had to. Because if she dared deal with any of the other drama in her life, she felt as if she might collapse. And giving up just wasn't an option.

* * *

Nathan stared at the phone. A dial tone rang loudly in the silence, but he didn't notice. Inside his head, the words 'I chose Henry' repeated themselves over and over. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what Vicki had said, having blocked out any memories of her rejection. 

In the short time he had known her, Nathan could feel himself falling in love. He liked her spunk and enthusiasm for everything, especially what she didn't know. Vicki Nelson was one of those women you could take skydiving or drag racing, and would have looked at it as an adventure, something new to tackle.

He admired the way she looked forward to a challenge, never taking the easy way out. She saw everything through to the end; he had seen that in her dedication to solve every single case that was passed across her desk.

She was a rare species of wonderful that Nathan could not understand, but loved all the same. He knew there were two other men dueling for her love, but he had considered himself an addition to the party. But he had been dismissed as easily as he had been drawn in, and now he felt empty.

He had to do something.

* * *

_ Candle of power, candle of might,_

_Create my desires here on this night._

_Power stream from this candle's fire._

_Bring to me my heart's desire._

_Children of Water, small ones of Light,_

_Join with my spelling here on this night._

_Decreed by the Mother_

_Felt in my heart._

_Bring us together, never to part._

_My words have strength, the victory is won._

_So I say. This spell is done. _

* * *

A hand gripped her shoulder and shook it gently, waking her from a light sleep. She yawned and pried open one eye, letting Henry's torso swim into view. He was standing beside the desk, smiling down at her in a way she found unfamiliar. 

"Hi," she whispered, sitting up and stretching.

"Hi yourself. Did you have a nice nap?"

"Mhm," she purred, nodding happily. "Yours?"

He laughed. "Dreamless."

Vicki stood and made her way into the kitchen, rummaging in the freezer for something to eat. Henry watched, mildly amused. There was nothing edible in Vicki's refrigerator or cupboards, and she knew it, which made her searching all the more ironic.

"Hungry?" he asked, offering her an apple he found lying on the counter.

"That's old," she said without looking.

"You didn't even look," he chuckled.

"Trust me. It's old."

"So is everything in there," he replied, pushing the freezer door shut as she withdrew her hand.

She shrugged. "So I don't shop much."

"I have a better idea," Henry said, handing her her jacket. "Come on."

She eyed him suspiciously, but did as he said.

Vicki wasn't surprised when they arrived at Henry's apartment. She smiled pleasantly at the doorman, who avoided any eye contact with her or her companion.

"We should probably apologize for scaring him the other night," she said to Henry, nodding in the older man's direction.

Henry smiled. "He's fine."

"Fine, have it your way. I'm just saying…"

Henry shot her a look.

"He did try to stake you once."

"He didn't know any better."

"He had the right idea," Vicki reminded him. "You're just lucky I was there to scare him off."

"I don't think you _scared _ him," Henry laughed, holding open the apartment door for her.

She sucked in a breath. The dining room had been transformed. Silk hung from the ceiling in sheets of pink and blue, and candles glowed from inside white vases scattered about the room. A single, delicate white rose lay at one end of the table, and Henry pulled out the chair before it.

Vicki looked over her shoulder at him, expression unreadable.

"Please, sit," Henry said, waiting.

"What is all this?" she breathed.

"Certainly you must know, being a history minor and all," he teased.

"I didn't study ancient decorations," she said pointedly, though she took the seat he offered.

"Well, I thought I'd be a decent human being and cook you dinner."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, somewhat human."

"This has nothing to do with bribing me to talk about 'us,' does it?" she asked.

Henry fained innocence. "Of course not."

She shot him a look. "Good."

He disappeared into the kitchen, then returned moments later with a large tray.

"Chocolate-covered strawberries?" Vicki asked in surprise, a grin spreading across her face. "They're my-"

"Favorite," Henry concluded. "I know. Here."

He picked one up and held it tauntingly close, pulling it away as she attempted to bite into it. He brought it back, only to step further away when she tried again. She leaned forward, both hands on the table, straining for the fruit just beyond her reach.

When Henry knew she'd had enough, he moved with lightening speed, coming to stand before her, her back now to the table, his lips dangerously close.

He fed her the strawberry, watching her mouth as she bit down, the chocolate breaking and falling into her mouth. He smiled as her eyes lit up, and laughed as a bit of chocolate melted in the corner of her lips and smeared.

"I'll get it," he offered, and took a tentative step closer, waiting to see if she would push him away.

She didn't.

His lips only just brushed hers, barely even a kiss, as he pressed them against the dark smudge. The taste of Henry, along with that of the chocolate, was almost too much for Vicki to handle, and she pressed her body against his, daring him to take her.

He smiled against her skin, and pushed her back onto the table. She didn't resist, nearly pulling him down with her. His eyes flashed, and she moaned as he kissed his way down her throat, pressing his lips to the pulse he could feel throbbing just below the surface of her creamy skin.

"Hungry?" she whispered, half joking.

He was entranced, unable to help himself. He could feel the Hunger within him rising, and didn't bother to force it back down. He could feel the fangs descend, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips.

Vicki opened her eyes then. She had seen Henry's fangs numerous times, but never so close to her throat, and the look in his eyes was one she didn't know or recognize.

_Is this what happens when you tell a vampire how you feel_, she wondered, her heart pounding. _Now we move from the wrists to the throat? _

"Henry?" she asked, feeling his weight pressing down on her.

His lips were pressed against her skin, and she could feel the coolness of his breath at the base of her throat.

"Henry, maybe we should-"

Her sentence was cut off by the pain that shot through her entire body as Henry sunk his teeth into her flesh.

_Stop it, _the voice cried out. _You'll kill her! _

Henry was trapped inside his own body, unable to stop what was happening. He could feel his limbs as they pinned Vicki to the table, could taste her blood on his lips as he drew her in, but for the first time enjoyed none of it.

He could sense her fear and trepidation, and he wanted to assure her that she would be alright, but this other Henry, the one that was draining the blood from her body, was someone else, incapable of stopping before any harm was done.

"Henry, stop," she pleaded, her hands pushing at his chest, though unable to move him. "Stop it!"

She had seen him feed before, numerous times, but never had he taken this much blood from her; never had he brought his mouth anywhere near her throat.

Henry wanted to tell her he couldn't stop, wanted to explain, but couldn't fight the spell binding this other soul to his own.

In this moment, all he could do was feel awful for doubting her earlier when she'd said she was under a spell.

She was gasping for air, clawing at him, trying to free herself but incapable of doing so.

"Henry!" she choked out, her eyes wide with fear as she stared into two night-black orbs that only reflected her terror.

_I'm here. I wish I could stop this! I'll figure something out, Vicki, just hang on…  
_

But one thing Henry Fitzroy did not have was time. Her strength was waning, and she had gone limp moments ago. His fangs still drew blood from her, and she was losing the battle.

And then, as if by magic, the spell was released and Henry threw himself off of her, backed up against the wall, breathing hard.

She lay on the table, arms splayed Christ-like, wrists dangling over the edge. Her eyes were glassy, and her breathing was ragged. Her fingers twitched, but she was too weak to move anything else, let alon_e_ try and speak.

When Henry was sure he was entirely himself, he slowly made his way back to her. She stared up at him, eyes filled with something like betrayal.

"Vicki, I…"

"Don't," she whispered. "You don't have to explain."

"You know it wasn't me?"

She just nodded sadly.

Henry knew that look, and his heart began to ache.

"Vicki…"

"No. I'm not talking about this now," she said wearily, pooling together enough strength to sit up.

"We have to!" Henry cried. "If we ever needed to talk, it's now!"

She massaged her temples and shook her head.

"I can't. I need to sleep." She looked like death.

"You can sleep later. Right now we need to talk."

"No. No talking. Because if we talk, I'll have to explain how we can never be together. Look what just happened, Henry. You could have killed me."

"It wasn't _me_," he growled, his eyes begging for her understanding.

"I know. But that doesn't change anything. There's always going to be that dangerous side of you I can't control, and if anyone were to take advantage of it, like they did tonight, well, we're both goners."

"Vicki, don't do this."

"If you want to fight for 'us,' Henry, fine. Fight. I love you, more than you know, but I can't do this. I chose to love you, but I choose not to fight."

"That's not the Vicki Nelson I know," Henry argued. "The Vicki Nelson I know doesn't give up."

"I'm not giving up. I'm giving in."

"That's the same thing!" he cried.

But it wasn't. Not in Vicki's eyes, and he understood that. Giving up meant she didn't care. Giving up meant that there were other, more important things to worry about. Giving in was admitting her helplessness, something Vicki was not apt to do. Giving in meant she wanted to fight, but could no longer see the point.

"I need sleep," she repeated, her eyes staring at a knot in the hardwood floor.

Henry knew she was too weak to argue with him, let alone have the conversation they both knew was inevitable. Sighing, he picked her up and carried her into his bedroom. He pulled the sheets up to her chin, and bent down to kiss her goodnight. He was surprised when she turned away, and felt the sting of rejection.

"We're talking when you wake up," he insisted.

But she was already asleep.

* * *

Back in the living room, Henry pressed his face against the cool glass of the large picture window. It wasn't often that he was forced to look back upon his five hundred years of experience with women, but he had found himself doing that a lot as of late. 

He had never been one to wait for the things he wanted; it just wasn't necessary. A flash of black, a deep voice, and women were at his every beck and whim. He had never needed to worry about going hungry, for women practically threw themselves at him, all persuasiveness aside. He knew he was handsome, knew he had charm. It wasn't often that he needed to use his powers of persuasion on his prey, but it never hurt.

Vicki was something an entirely different. An anomaly. She had resisted him for an entire year, when the longest he had ever had to wait for a woman was a single night. He had long since given up on trying to use his persuasive tactics on her, for it almost seemed unethical. She trusted him, and in return, it only seemed fair to trust that she would come around eventually.

But Vicki Nelson had built walls around herself, beginning in early childhood. They were thick and sturdy, and so far, no one had been able to bring them down. Mike knew what lay beyond them much better than Henry, and yet he continued to fight for Vicki and her love, a trait Henry conceded as admirable. He had glimpsed bits and pieces of what lay beyond her defenses, but he didn't care about that. Nothing about her frightened him. He wanted to know her, all of her, which is why he fought. He fought to break her defenses so that he could prove that not everyone in the world meant to harm her. He wanted to prove to her that she could trust someone and that, in return, they would love her and never leave.

But she was cynical and stubborn, and she resisted. She fought her attraction to him with every fiber in her being, and while he admired her gumption, he thought she was behaving foolishly. She spent so much time running from a good thing that she couldn't even recognize it as such.

Knowing she was so close, only in the next room, yet so far away, Henry felt a growing loneliness inside him. When Vicki was with him, silence was never an option, for her voice filled his mind even when she wasn't speaking. She chatted about everything and everyone, keeping him up to date on the goings-on of daylight.

Silence now surrounded him, and he began talking to himself in order to keep himself occupied and fill the void Vicki had left.

"Mike's going to kill me when he finds out."

He had no doubt in his mind she would tell him.

"Just what I need. A vampire-hating cop who already made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't feel bad about killing me."

His mind began to wander.

"How could you ever choose someone like that?" he mused. "He's selfish, arrogant, and intolerable. If I were a woman, I'd like to think I'd have better taste in men than that. Literally."

But Vicki had made it clear that Mike was not her choice. She had also made it perfectly clear that she didn't trust the man whom she claimed to love. She trusted him with her life, but not her heart.

_How ironic.  
_

"I wish I could tell you everything, Vicki," he muttered into his hands, sinking into the leather couch. "I wish I could tell you that I would never drink another woman's blood if I could help it. That if it were possible to only feed from you without doing you harm, I would. That I love you more than life itself, that I would give up this half-life if it meant saving you. I wish I could tear down the walls you've built around yourself. If I could explain this all eloquently, I would tell you everything about me. Anything you wanted to know. And I'd give you anything you wanted. If I were of the selfish persuasion, I would turn you, just so I could spend eternity with you. I know they say two vampires can't share the same hunting ground, but love can overpower anything if you believe hard enough. And if you didn't believe, I'd believe for the both of us."

He sighed. If only he could say these things to her face, maybe she wouldn't try so hard to push him away.

_Or maybe she'd push harder.  
_

"Hey, can you keep it down in here?" came a voice. "A girl's gotta sleep, you know."

Henry looked up to see Vicki clad in his favorite robe, leaning against the wall just outside his bedroom.

Her voice was quiet, light, teasing him. Her eyes, however, said something else. She had heard everything, he was certain. Her gaze was intense, and he could feel his face grow warm.

She smiled then.

"Henry Fitzroy, are you blushing?"

"No."

_God, you're such a fool when it comes to her.  
_

He watched for any signs that would give her away, but she remained impassive.

"How much did you hear?" he asked finally. He might as well get to the point.

"Nearly all of it," she replied, striding across the room and taking a seat beside him. It appeared that some of her strength had returned.

"Oh."

She took his hand in both of hers, allowing him to take solace in her nearness. Clearly, a man who had been alone for nearly five hundred years, regardless of how many women threw themselves at him, could still crave human interaction.

It struck Vicki, then, how odd it was that Henry so disliked being alone now. He had often told her he enjoyed the silence that filled his apartment, that he loved the quiet of night, its stillness. It seemed, however, that he had grown accustomed to having her at his side, and was no longer capable of dealing with the pangs of loneliness that hit him in waves throughout his waking hours. He craved her attention, her presence, and if all he could do was watch over her dreams, he would.

"And?"

"And what?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Vicki…"

"Oh. The talk. Right."

"We need to talk about what happened," he repeated. "We have to."

"No. No, we don't. Henry, everything's fine. I'm fine, you're fine. We're fine. Fine."

"Vicki, I could have killed you tonight. You can _not _ be fine."

She shrugged. "Well, I am."

"I don't believe you."

"We're not having this discussion," Vicki insisted, disentangling his hand from her own and pulling herself off the couch. "I'm going back to bed. Wake me when you need to sleep so I can head home."

_ Is she always going to do this? I know women change the subject when they want to avoid something, but really? Something this important she can't sit down and talk about? _

"Change of subject and complete problem avoidance. Classic," he called after her.

In the recesses of the apartment, a bedroom door slammed.

* * *

The next afternoon found Vicki pacing anxiously inside her office. She had nearly run from Henry's when the sun began to rise, afraid he would again try and bring up his million and one reasons why they should be together. For every negative response she made, he seemed more determined than ever to prove that love could overcome her doubts. Even Mike had never been this persistent. 

"And since when did Henry become an optimist?" she asked the mirror above her desk.

"His royal highness has always played the Prince of Fucking Darkness card, and now he's Mary Sunshine?"

Something inside her told her she needed to stop thinking about him so much, but how to distract herself? She'd had an urge to see Mike all day, and suddenly decided it seemed like a great idea.

She grabbed her coat from a nearby chair and headed for the door, nearly running headfirst into Nathan, who was in the middle of opening the door as she stormed out.

"Nathan! Hi! Um… what're you doing here?" she asked in a rush.

"Look, I needed to see you. Can we talk?"

"Now's not a good time," she apologized, still trying to back away from the front door. "I'm kind of in a hurry."

"That's okay, I'll wait here."

Vicki shook her head. "No, really. I don't think I'll be back until late."

"Could I come back tomorrow?" Nathan pressed.

Vicki wanted to leave, and would have said anything to get rid of him.

"Sure. Tomorrow's fine. But really," she said, holding the door open, "I have to go." She stared pointedly at the exit.

Nathan took the hint.

"Right. Okay. Sorry to bother you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you."

Vicki nearly ran to the cab that was waiting out front. The driver was one she knew well from the years she'd spent being carted around the city.

"Same as usual, Ms.Nelson?" he asked.

"Yeah."

She wasn't in the mood for small-talk.

The drive was short, and when the cab pulled up in front of Mike's house, Vicki paused. She had wanted to see him, but now that she was here, would he even speak to her?

"Thanks," she said, handing the cabbie a twenty. "Keep the change."

She slowly made her way up the porch steps and peered through the screened window. The lights were on in the living room, and faintly she could hear a t.v., undoubtedly playing reruns of M.A.S.H.

She could hear blood pounding in her ears. Why had she come here? Mike didn't want to see her, let alone talk to her. But she had needed to see him, if not but to talk, talk about anything besides Henry Fitzroy.

It was there, standing on Mike Celluci's front porch, that it hit her. Henry wasn't her safety net, Mike was. Mike was the one she ran to in times of emotional crisis, the one she reamed out when she was angry with herself. He reminded her so much of what she had once been, of what she was missing. He was Stability, he was Comfort, he was Predictable. She wasn't afraid of him, would never have to worry about him nearly killing her in the midst of intimate moments. Mike was, inevitably, Safe.

But not the man she was in love with. Vicki Nelson was in love with Mystery. Henry was unpredictable, charming, honest and frightening. He was multifaceted, a different person in different situations. He could be seductive one moment, and dangerously close to anger the next. He was Unsafe, Untamable. And God knew Vicki Nelson loved a challenge.

She rapped loudly at the door.

"Mike, open up."

"Go away, Nelson," he shouted from inside. "I told you, we're through."

"No, we aren't! I have to talk to you."

"Go AWAY."

"OPEN THE DOOR!"

"GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH!" Mike screamed. He had made his way to the front door and was standing just behind the screen, glaring at her.

"Open the door. Now."

"What part of 'go away' don't you understand?"

"It's not in my vocabulary. Now let me in."

"No."

"Mike, don't do this," she pleaded.

The detective raised an eyebrow. "Don't do _this_? How about what you've done, Vicki? You chose a fucking vampire over me!"

"About that…" She sighed.

Mike took pause, though only momentarily.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"I… No." A pause. "Maybe."

"Good."

Vicki's eyes narrowed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Good. I'm glad you're already having problems. It means you made a bad decision. Except now you need me to make you feel better. Guess what? I don't give a flying fuck whether or not you're mad at Henry."

"I'm NOT mad at him," she snapped. "I'm here because… God, I don't even know."

She began to pace across the old planks of Mike's porch, each of them creaking under her movements.

"I didn't come here to argue with you, Mike. I came because I need your help."

"I told you, not interested."

"Mike, somebody's out to kill me. And you, and Henry. Personally, I don't feel like meeting my maker quite yet. Someone put a spell on Henry last night, and I nearly died because of it. I don't know what they plan on doing to you, but I'm willing to bet that this isn't over."

"So, what? You want me to help you fight some hoo-doo voo-doo freak so that you can be with Fitzroy? Forget it."

"Not to be with Henry, you idiot! You aren't listening! If we don't all work together, we're all going to die. Die, Mike, as in dead. D-e-a-d, dead. Six-feet-under _dead_."

Mike sighed wearily. "You know what, Vic? I don't even care anymore. Go save the world, but don't expect me to help."

"Mike, don't-"

The door didn't quite slam in her face.

"Goddamnit!" she yelled, kicking the porch railing.

_ I guess some things you really can't forgive.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Vicki was anxious, and Henry was annoyed.

"It's been two weeks. Why hasn't anything happened?"

"And you _want _ to be physically harmed against your will?"

"I want to catch whoever's doing this."

"And nearly dying again would help us how?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "But waiting is almost worse, isn't it?"

"I'm perfectly fine."

"Well, I'm not."

"That's because you were never very patient," Henry pointed out. "I've had five hundred years to learn that all one has is time."

"_You _ may have all the time in the world, but I don't. And I am not dying at age thirty two."

"You aren't dying. Maybe whoever was casting spells decided to stop."

Vicki raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really believe that?"

Henry shrugged. "No."

"That's what I thought," she muttered.

The two were seated in Vicki's office, she at her desk, Henry staring up at the ceiling from where he lay on the couch. They had been bickering ever since the attempted dinner at Henry's apartment two weeks ago, though neither bothered to admit that they were at odds. Vicki honestly believed things were fine, or as fine as things could be when a vampire nearly killed you while under some sort of spell. Henry knew things between the two were strained, but if Vicki was going to ignore it, so would he.

"Have you spoken to Nathan since you broke up?"

"No."

"I figured as much," Henry muttered to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. I said that sucks."

She shrugged.

"He wasn't really my type, anyway."

"Oh really? So what is your type, Vicki?"

"Dark, brooding and handsome," she quipped.

Henry couldn't tell if she was joking.

"So he just disappeared?"

"No," Vicki said, sounding annoyed. "He's been busy."

"Like Mike."

Vicki and Mike hadn't spoken since she'd nearly broken his porch railing with her foot. That wasn't the reason he was avoiding her, but she told herself it was. She didn't want to admit that the reason they were no longer speaking was because she'd slept with him, then chosen someone else not even twenty-four hours later.

"Mike's busy, too."

"I'm sure he is," Henry offered, voice dripping with disdain.

"He is," Vicki insisted.

"And how would you know? You two aren't speaking."

"That's not my fault," she snapped.

"I never said it was."

"It was implied."

"Fine, whatever. All I'm saying is that there's a good chance Nathan was the one casting the spells, that's all."

"It wasn't Nathan," Vicki argued. "He never struck me as the Prince of Darkness type."

"You didn't even know him that well," Henry pointed out.

"I knew him well enough."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hmph," Henry snorted.

He was good at ignoring the metaphorical elephant in the room. Vicki, it seemed, was also a master. She was also pig-headed and stubborn, and he was not appreciative. They had been dancing circles around each other, Henry trying to talk about what had happened, Vicki pulling further and further away.

He didn't pretend to understand her anymore. There were some things about Victoria Nelson that would forever remain an enigma, and he had come to accept that. He could not, however, accept the fact that she had professed her love for him and was now simply denying it.

And so he tried again.

"Are we ever going to talk about what happened?"

She looked up from her computer and stared impassively at him.

"I don't know."

"Vicki," he warned.

"I don't know," she insisted.

"Don't know or don't want to?" he pressed.

"Neither. Both. I don't know!" she cried in frustration. "Just let it go, okay?"

"I nearly killed you. Or rather, someone who had taken over my body nearly killed you. I think that warrants a discussion, don't you?"

"No. You said it yourself, it was someone else."

"So why are we walking on eggshells?"

"We aren't."

Henry shot her a look.

"We aren't," she repeated firmly. "We're fine."

"Right. So your pushing me away has nothing to do with what happened."

"No."

Henry sat up and stared intensely in her direction, though she refused to look up.

_She's even admitting to pushing me away? What the hell is this? _

"Vicki, what's going on between us? One minute your hot, the next you're cold as ice. At least give me something to go on!"

"I told you," she said, hauling herself out of the chair and rummaging through her filing cabinet, "we're fine."

"We are way beyond not fine," Henry countered, moving to stand at her side. "We left the land of fine a long time ago."

Vicki brushed past him and sat back down at her desk, throwing a heap of folders onto its cluttered surface.

"Listen, I really need to work on this case, Henry. If you want to stay and help, fine. If you're just going to try and get me to talk about what happened, you should probably leave."

Henry was tempted to stay, to revel in her nearness, regardless of how awkward they now seemed around each other, but he knew that if he stayed with her, he would only cause problems.

_See, I can be selfless,_ he thought to himself.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Vicki," he said, heading towards the door. "But sooner or later, we're going to talk."

"You keep telling yourself that," Vicki muttered.

* * *

Mike lay in bed, watching the shadows of the trees outside his window dance across the wall. He could hear the phone ringing, but ignored it. He had shoved his cell into an old sock, then placed that in the bottom of one of his drawers, praying any thoughts of Victoria Nelson would be banished into the darkness with it. Unfortunately, neither was the case. He could still hear his phone, and Vicki was still on his mind. 

"Goddamnit," he muttered, flinging the covers off and stumbling across the room to find the buzzing device; he'd forgotten to silence it. He flipped it open, expecting to see a large amount of missed calls. Strangely enough, there were only two, and neither one was from Vicki.

"I guess she really _doesn't _ care," he said, sounding slightly put off.

But no matter how many times he said it, he knew it was a lie. Vicki cared about him; it was a well-known fact. Two people cannot be partners and lovers for that long without actually caring about one another. Apparently, he was the one who had given himself completely to another, and the woman whom he'd given his heart to had smashed it into a million glistening shards.

"God _damn _it!"

Swearing didn't help the situation much, but it made him feel a little better. Swearing to high heaven would not bring Vicki back to him, and his anger would not turn Henry into a smoldering pile of ash. Still, the thought made him smile.

He hated Henry Fitzroy with every fiber of his being. He had taken the one thing Mike had ever truly wanted, and he had never even really had her. Vicki Nelson was not to be had by anyone. She answered to no one, and bore her soul to few. She loved so completely, but it was a rare thing to see her truly care for anyone; Mike had only glimpsed that side of her, and he strove to experience it completely. She kept her secrets hidden, her weaknesses unknown, and love was forbidden. The one who sired her had broken her heart, and she had never forgiven him for it. She distrusted every and all men, and it was a small miracle that she had even allowed Mike into her world, let alone Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of Henry VIII.

But the two of them were more similar than Mike cared to admit. Vicki had lived a life in which she kept everyone at arm's length. Henry had spent nearly five hundred years learning to distinguish those he could trust from those he could not. His secrets were his own, and he shared himself with only a select few. In that respect, Mike understood her need to be with someone so similar to herself, someone who understood secrets and loneliness. But that didn't make him respect Henry, and it sure as hell didn't make Mike hate him any less.

Simply put, Henry Fitzroy was what Mike considered a Bad Decision. Vicki had somehow lost herself in this Bad Decision, and Mike had been trying for well over a year now to save her. It seemed, however, that Vicki Nelson was not the typical damsel in distress, and outright refused his gallant efforts to bring her back to reality. Vicki Nelson, he decided, was no longer worth his time.

"If you want to fuck the vampire," Mike muttered, "go ahead. I don't care anymore."

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. He cared; he cared a great deal. No matter how angry Vicki made him, he was always going to care. And that pained him more than anything she could have knowingly done.

* * *

Henry sat brooding in his apartment, running through the night's events in his mind. He had arrived at Vicki's promptly after sunset, and she had had her nose buried in a large stack of papers, presumably for a new case she was working on. She had barely acknowledged him when he said hello, merely tipping her head in his direction, setting Henry on edge for the rest of the evening. He had tried to make small-talk, but she wasn't interested, so he had cut right to the chase. 

"Are you okay?"

She had glanced up briefly. "Of course. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," Henry replied sarcastically. "Playing the silent game might be an indicator that something's wrong."

"I'm not playing the silent game, I'm working," she had quipped.

But that had not satisfied Henry's quest for a normal conversation.

"Do you want any help?"

"No, I think I've got this."

She was dancing circles around him, and he knew it.

"How's your iron count?" he asked surreptitiously.

"Normal," she answered without thinking. After a moment, she grasped his meaning and shot him a look.

"So you've been checking," he nodded.

"You nearly killed me, Henry. I think keeping an eye on my iron count is normal under those circumstances, don't you?"

"After everything we've been through lately, sure, I guess it's normal," he acquiesced.

That had seemed to pacify Vicki, for she had returned to her work without another word.

Now, sitting alone in his apartment two hours later, Henry wondered why he'd let it go that easily. He knew Vicki was not going to talk about what had happened, at least not yet, but why hadn't he pushed her? He knew that, eventually, if he badgered her enough, she would give in, if only to shut him up.

"Damn it," he said quietly, rubbing a hand across his face in frustration.

It was still early - he could go back. He stared at the clock for a few moments, his heart pulling him towards the door, his head keeping him firmly situated on the couch.

_Don't kid yourself,_ the voice said. _If you go back, she's just going to be even more annoyed. Give her the rest of the night to herself.  
_

Henry was striving to understand her need to keep him at arm's length, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. Jealousy and frustration were emotions he generally considered useless and a waste of time. When one had eternity before him, time seemed a bit irrelevant. He knew that eventually Vicki would allow him back into her heart and openly admit it, but his usual patience was running out.

Vicki Nelson, more than anyone he had ever met, tried his patience. Any self-control he had learned throughout his life seemed to be tossed out the window when it came to her. She made his blood boil, his heartbeat quicken and his pulse race, a nearly impossible feat for any vampire. Perhaps it _was_ impossible and Henry was merely exaggerating, but that's what it felt like.

She knew how to press his buttons, and though she knew him well enough by now, she still had no idea the power she held over him. Henry was defenseless when it came to his love for her. He would drop whatever he was doing to come to her aid, and even when he was angry with her, he still followed her around like a whipped dog.

Victoria Nelson, named after the had-been queen of England, had reduced Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of Henry VIII, Prince of Men, Writer and Vampire, to mush. And god, he hated her for it.

* * *

Vicki blew a large chunk of hair out of her face and sighed. She hadn't meant to be so withdrawn earlier, but she'd had a lot on her mind. For two weeks she had tried to burry herself in her work, trying to erase the image of Henry scraping at her neck from her memory. Nothing she did had worked, however, and she was irked. Perhaps that's why she had tried to ignore Henry; maybe if she ignored him, the thoughts of what had happened would fade. 

That didn't seem to be the case, however. The more she tried to repress what had happened, the clearer it stood out in her mind. She could still feel the place where two sets of fangs had sunk into her skin, could remember the feeling of her blood being drawn from her body as she struggled for control. She had been frightened, much like the time Henry had nearly attacked her after being tortured by a crazed man of the Inquisition. He had been bestial and out of control then, too.

She scribbled away at the map spread out before her, trying to ignore the onset of emotions she could feel rising at the back of her throat. She hated this nonsensical world of vampires and demons, where what once had been evil was good, and the good was never better than mediocre. Henry Fitzroy was a light unto her darkness, yet she still tried to blow out the flame.

Frustrated at both herself and her case, she chucked a pen across the room, smiling in satisfaction as it flew out the window.

"Ouch!"

_Oops.  
_

She hadn't meant to hit any passersby.

She scrambled out of her chair and poked her head beyond the curtain to find herself nose to nose with a familiar person of the opposite sex.

"Nathan."

He smiled ruefully, rubbing a cheek that had an ink splotch on it.

"I'm not stalking you," he said hurriedly. "I was going to use the front door. Honestly. I was just going to see if you were home first." He grinned. "Obviously, you are."

Vicki couldn't decide whether to laugh and invite him in, or to scowl and send him on his way. She decided to remain where she was, arms folded across her chest, her face unreadable.

"Why were you coming over?" she asked, lowering herself onto the window seat.

_Henry._ This was his favorite place to sit and think, and it smelled strongly of his cologne. His scent was so prevalent that she was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded.

Nathan leaned against the shutters. "No reason. I was in the area and just wanted to see if you were alright. Caring isn't a crime, you know," he winked.

Vicki didn't smile, and when she said nothing, Nathan immediately sobered.

"Okay, honestly? I just wanted to see you. I wasn't in the area. I lied. So sue me."

Vicki tried to be understanding. At least he was being honest, unlike the two other men in her life; one a melancholy, button-pushing vampire, the other a grown man acting like a brooding six year old who hadn't quite gotten his way.

"If you want me to leave, I will," Nathan said, quirking his head slightly to the left, enabling himself to see her better through the curtain.

Vicki sighed. "No, it's fine. I'll, uh, go unlock the front door. The neighbors might be a little freaked out if they see someone climbing in through my office window."

Nathan clambered out of the small garden below Vicki's window and heard a click as she unlocked the door, leaving it open for him as he made his way up the front steps.

"Been doing a little redecorating?" he joked, taking a quick glance around the office.

The last time he had been there, picture frames had littered the desk and shelves. A bouquet of lilies had adorned the coffee table and the exercise equipment had been littered with drying clothes and crumpled paper.

Now, nearly a month later, the room seemed positively empty. The pictures had all been put away, the flowers thrown carelessly in a wastebasket, slowly dying of dehydration. The clothes had all been folded and shoved into a corner, and the crumpled papers had disappeared.

Nathan couldn't put his finger on it, but the apartment felt strange, as if all the happiness had been sucked out of it. Vicki didn't look too happy herself, though he couldn't tell if that was his own doing or not.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asked, taking a seat at her desk and peering at him from behind glasses that were in need of a good cleaning.

Nathan looked puzzled. "One needs a reason to come and see you?" he asked, sounding miffed.

"Mike and Henry feel the need to justify _their _visits."

Nathan shrugged. "I'm not Mike _or _ Henry."

"No, you're not," Vicki whispered under her breath.

She looked up then, looked him square in the eye.

"You aren't a vampire, are you?"

Nathan blinked. Had anyone else asked that of him, he would have laughed to high heaven. But the look on Vicki's face told him she wasn't kidding, and thus he kept his laughter at bay.

"No."

She stared at him, studied him, watched the expressions that flashed across his face every few moments. The air between them sizzled, almost as if some unseen energy force was being pumped through with electrical current. Her gaze was intense, and Nathan had a feeling he would not have been able to look away had he even wanted to try.

"You don't know any magic?"

He shook his head. "Not unless you count saying 'hocus pocus.' And I hear that doesn't actually work these days."

There was another long silence, filled with Vicki's frightening intensity and Nathan's inability to turn away.

"So you aren't a witch? Or a demon? Or a crazy person?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked indignantly, breaking her gaze and jumping to his feet. "You think I had something to do with the attack on your friend?"

Vicki shrugged. "He thinks you do."

"Since when do you listen to anyone besides yourself?"

_He's right. Since when _do_ I listen to what Henry tells me? _

But she knew. She knew that, no matter how much she tried to ignore Henry's warnings, he could be right. Her police instinct told her that Nathan was as likely a suspect as anyone else; her heart, however, said something else. She may not have been in love with Nathan, but she trusted him enough to believe him.

Somewhat ashamed for accusing him, she lowered her eyes and muttered to herself, "Stupid Henry. Of course Nathan didn't open his blinds. Or attack Mike. Or mind-attack me. Or whatever."

She glanced up to find Nathan's lips a breath away.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to blame you. I just… I just need to make sense of what's happening."

"You're awfully edgy," Nathan grumbled. "What even made you think I'd attack your friend?"

_A vampire. A jealous, love-sick vampire thinks you did it.  
_

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Police instinct? Blame everyone until someone turns up guilty?"

"Something like that."

But it wasn't true. If Nathan hadn't done it, she had nothing to go on. She had no suspects, nowhere to start, and she didn't know when this horrible game was going to end.

"Are you so willing to blame someone you just had to blame me?"

"I have nothing to go on!" Vicki spat. "I had to ask, okay? I don't think you did it, but I had to know for sure."

Nathan stared angrily at her for a moment, then took a shuddering breath as he turned to stare out the window.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I guess you've been through a lot lately. I don't know what I'd do if I was in your position, but I'd probably have asked me, too."

Vicki's chest felt heavy, and she sighed.

"Maybe you should go," she said.

"Maybe I should," he agreed, picking up his coat and heading towards the door.

Vicki followed slowly behind, leaning against the doorframe as Nathan made his way slowly down the front steps. She saw him pause halfway between stairs, foot caught in limbo, saw him turn around and come back. She saw him grab her shoulders and felt his lips press against her own, could feel the stubble on his chin rub against the satin skin of her cheeks. The voice inside her head screamed at her to stop him, to push him away.

She placed her hands on his chest, intent on shoving him bodily off her if need be, but nothing happened. She couldn't force herself to push, and instead felt herself drawn into his kiss more than she would have liked.

This was not like Henry's kisses, filled with passion and tenderness, his tongue gently prodding her to respond. This was animalistic, and yet she could not tear herself away. She could feel Nathan's need for her, and she found herself strangely entranced.

When he finally let her go, she opened her eyes and stared at him surprise, the force that had bound her to him suddenly lifted.

"W-what was that?!" she spluttered.

"A kiss," he said simply.

"Why?"

She couldn't seem to form a complete sentence, anger, surprise, uncertainty and unknown feelings all jumbled into an incoherent hodgepodge of thoughts in her head.

Nathan took a deep breath.

"Because I'm not willing to give you up," he said matter-of-factly. "This is going to sound crazy, but I think I'm in love with you."

"Piss off," Vicki muttered. "I've heard that line before."

"Are you this hostile towards everyone who cares about you?"

_Yes.  
_

"No."

"So you make it a habit of turning men away?"

Vicki shrugged.

The look on Nathan's face told her that he didn't get turned down very often. But beyond that and being somewhat hurt, Vicki sensed something else, and she could have sworn a pair of black eyes flashed momentarily.

She shook her head; she must have been imagining things.

_Great. I'm going blind _and_ crazy._

Still, there was an intensity about him that she couldn't shake, and it was making her nervous.

"Go home, Nathan. Your coming here was a bad idea."

"If it was such a bad idea, why are you blushing?"

Vicki's hands flew to her cheeks and felt the heat radiating beneath her touch. She wasn't entirely certain why her body was responding the way it was, but she was growing more annoyed by the second. If she wasn't in control of her emotions, who knew what would happen next? For all she knew, she might drag Nathan inside, throw him on her bed and do with him what she liked.

_Stop it, Nelson, you sound like a bumbling idiot_, the voice coddled.

"Go home," she repeated.

"You don't really want me to leave."

Vicki felt an odd sensation for a moment, then dismissed it. If vampire charm wouldn't work on her, a mortal's certainly couldn't.

"Yes I do."

Nathan's voice wrapped around her, leaving her breathless.

"Your heart's beating much faster than usual. Perhaps I could help?" A finger traced her racing pulse down her throat, hooking itself under the strap of her tank.

Something inside her deeply wanted Nathan to stay, to take out her frustration with Mike and Henry in the only way she could think of, but common sense finally won out and she bodily shoved Nathan away from her, gasping for breath as if she'd just run a marathon.

"Vicki!" he exclaimed.

But she had hurried up the front steps and locked the door, the window slamming shut a moment later.

"Damnit," he muttered and sulked the entire way back to his car.

* * *

Vicki stared out the window after him, her heart racing. She couldn't quite grasp what had just transpired, but she had a feeling Henry may not have been entirely wrong in his assumptions about Vicki's would-be beau. 

She picked up the phone, dialing Henry's number from memory. She wasn't entirely sure what she would say when he picked up, but never gave him the chance, slamming the handset back into its cradle, swearing loudly in the confined apartment.

She was not going to give him the satisfaction of being right. If he was even right at all.

But after nearly two hours filled with attempts at falling asleep, she came to the conclusion that Henry was exactly who she needed to see.

She called a cab and wasn't surprised when the doorman at Henry's apartment immediately buzzed her in. She waved a thank-you at the older man and paced the confined box that was the elevator.

Standing in front of Henry's door, however, she couldn't bring herself to knock. Henry often had this effect on her, rendering her completely void of any normal human thought or logic. She needn't have knocked anyway, for the vampire in question opened the door less than a minute after she'd arrived.

"Hi," he said, sounding hopeful. He could feel her desire laced with fear, but one look at her face told him that feeding tonight would be out of the question. Vicki Nelson rarely looked frightened, and tonight she looked more than a bit spooked.

"Are you okay?"

She scowled. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Vicki, it's nearly three in the morning. Even you don't keep hours like this."

He didn't bother to point out she looked terrified. Bringing that up would be unleashing a can of worms he wasn't quite willing to deal with at the moment.

"Can I come in?" she asked pointedly.

He opened the door wider and she slipped inside, heading directly for her favorite chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and staring at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

_Don't tell him, don't say it.  
_

Henry could see the emotions play across her face and hid a smile. She had never had a good poker face, at least in the time he had known her.

Finally she sighed. "Nothing."

"Oh, okay."

He could pretend everything was fine, too. Perhaps even better, for Vicki was a terrible liar.

The two sat in silence for a long while, Vicki watching him from where he sat perched on the edge of the sofa. He stared back, nonplussed. Eventually she would tell him what was bothering her, and he couldn't have turned her away had he even wanted to; he didn't want to.

Around four he caught her stifle a yawn, and this time didn't bother to hide his grin.

"Sleepy?"

"Maybe a little," she admitted.

She was sick of being tired, of running from her problems. Yet she ran anyway.

"Uh… would it be okay if… you know… I uh, stayed?"

Henry tried to mask his surprise. Vicki rarely asked to spend the night, and the last time she had, it had been because she feared for her life. Perhaps this time was no different, though he held onto the small glimmer of hope that maybe it was just him.

Vicki shattered that idea into a million pieces.

"You're so full of yourself," she said, seeing the smug look on his face. "I'm just too tired to wait for a cab to take me home."

"I could drive you," he said, testing her resolve.

"I'd much rather just stay."

Well, if she really wanted to, he certainly wasn't going to turn her away.

"You know you're always welcome here."

"I was counting on it," she murmured under her breath.

Henry pretended not to hear.

"You can have the bed," he offered. "I'll sleep out here."

Vicki shook her head.

"No, it's okay. I'm intruding, I'll sleep on the couch." She had slept there before, and it wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"This is silly," Henry commented, as she pulled a blanket out of the cabinet. "We'd both be much more comfortable if we slept in the bed."

"Together." It wasn't a question.

"It's not like we haven't slept together before," he reminded her.

"I know that," she snapped, fluffing a pillow and throwing it onto the couch, along with the blanket. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Fine," Henry muttered.

"Fine. Goodnight," she said dismissively.

Henry used to be amazed at the fact that she would invite herself in and then expect him to leave her alone, but it no longer phased him. He obediently hit the light switch and made his way into the bedroom, leaving the doors partially open; she often spoke aloud, knowing he could hear her, expecting him to answer.

But tonight there were no words to fill the silence, no arguments to be had. Vicki had fallen asleep before Henry even bothered to return to check on her.

He stood over her, watching her sleep. Her expression never changed, the corners of her lips always tilted up in a half-smile, almost taunting him to try and delve into the secrets that lay behind the smirk. He wondered what she dreamt about, if she thought of him in those dark hours of unconsciousness. He wished he could picture her in his mind's eye as he slept, but dreams were something he no longer had the privilege of having.

Around five, an hour before the sun rose, he saw her twitch as circadian rhythm kicked in, dragging her out of a sleep-induced stupor. She had slept for maybe an hour, and Henry wondered how she functioned on the days when the two of them had been up the entire night.

She rolled onto her back, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning," he teased.

"What time is it?"

"A little after five. You slept for about an hour."

"An hour," she grumbled. "Fuck him."

"Hmm?"

She shot him a look that clearly said, 'don't ask.'

Henry asked.

"It's nothing," she consoled him. "Really."

"Honestly? It can't be nothing, because you never spend the night here if you can help it," Henry pointed out.

"Do you have anything to eat?"

"You were never subtle about changing the subject, either."

She glowered at him from beneath furrowed brows.

"Warm milk would be great," she said.

Henry rolled his eyes.

"As m'lady commands it," he said with mock severity, bowing so low his hair grazed the floor.

He returned a moment later with a glass of the warm liquid, and watched as Vicki downed it in nearly one gulp. She wiped the milk-mustache away with the back of her hand and leaned back against the couch, her gaze retrospective.

"What's eating you?" Henry asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. If she thought he was being nosey, she'd never tell.

Vicki waited for the voice to tell her to keep Nathan's visit a secret, but when it didn't come, she sighed.

"Nathan came over last night. Or, I _suppose _it was last night, since it's almost morning," she rattled on. "I don't know why I even let him in. I didn't mean for the pen to hit him, so I had to apologize, and one thing lead to another, and I let him in and, god, what was I thinking?"

Henry held up a hand, trying to slow her flood of words.

"Hold on. Start over."

He narrowed his eyes, brows drawn into a deep v, waiting for her to begin again.

She drew in a breath, then began the process of repeating herself, something she wasn't entirely fond of.

"I was angry. I threw a pen out the window, and it ended up hitting Nathan. He wanted to talk, but I said no. But I couldn't say no, you know?"

"Of course," Henry replied sarcastically.

Vicki ignored him.

"And he kissed me-"

Henry bristled.

"-and I couldn't push him away. It was like a magnet had drawn us together."

Henry's look changed from one of mild jealousy to one of concern.

"And?"

"_Aaaand …_ nothing," she said after a moment. "Nothing."

_Just tell him he was right._

_You don't know for sure._

_Yes you do. Deep down, you know.  
_

"Shut up!" Vicki grunted, causing Henry to jump.

"Sorry?"

"Talking to myself," she muttered.

She looked up into his eyes, so filled with worry and concern, she nearly lost herself in them.

As it were, she began to pick at the fringe of a decorative pillow, unable to look at Henry any longer.

He sensed her draw back into herself and inwardly sighed. Getting information from criminals had to be easier than this.

"And?" he asked momentarily.

"And what?"

"There's obviously something else," he said calmly. "You wouldn't have stayed here otherwise."

"A girl can't be tired anymore?"

"I didn't say that."

Vicki glared at him.

"Fine. You were right, okay? Or, I guess you _could _ be right. Happy now?"

For all his education and years of experience, Henry still looked confused.

"About…?"

"Nathan," Vicki said, as if were obvious and that he was a fool for not realizing. "You said you thought he was the one doing this."

"I still do," he said easily.

"Well, maybe he _is _ the bad guy!" Vicki exploded, throwing her hands in the air. "Maybe he's a fucking vampire, I don't know. I don't want to know! I just want this fucking nightmare to be over!"

Henry wasn't surprised by her outbursts anymore.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Because he has eyes like you," she snapped, as if that explained anything.

Henry smiled despite himself.

"So they're green?"

"No, you bastard, they turn black."

"You're sure it wasn't just the light? You know you can't see at n-"

"I know what I saw, alright?" she said defensively.

If she were this spooked, Henry didn't doubt it.

"Okay, okay," he backed off, settling into the thick cushions of the loveseat. "I'm sorry." He watched her pick apart his favorite blanket, nervous energy permitting her to do nothing else. "Are you okay?" he chanced.

"Fine," she muttered, but her voice betrayed her. She sighed. "No."

"It sure takes a lot to get you to admit you're afraid," Henry noted.

"You already knew that."

"Yes, but it's still something about you that annoys me."

He expected her to begin shouting at him again, but she just shrugged.

"Annoys me, too."

"So now that we can at least consider Nathan a suspect, what do we do?" Henry asked in his best professional voice.

If he had thought he could comfort Vicki, he would have tried. As it were, she had said as much as she was going to for the time being, and Henry wasn't going to push her.

"Check his records," Vicki began, ticking things off on each finger. "CP and FBI databases, Interpol, VICAP, DMV…"

"Somehow I have a feeling that isn't going to give us anything," Henry said.

"Well, where do _you _ suggest we look?" Vicki snapped. "The fucking Book of Souls? The textbook for Demonology 101? The Bible?"

Henry shook his head. Vicki had a habit of losing her temper when she wasn't sure where to begin, and they certainly had no idea what to do when it came to fighting the invisible. Demons and lack of sleep had put her in a foul mood, and it was rubbing off on him. Thankfully, it was almost sunrise.

"Listen, it's almost daylight. Can we call a truce and get some sleep?"

"A détente."

"Something like that. I'm not feeling particularly hostile. You, on the other hand…"

"Fine. Truce. Okay? Whatever."

It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Okay." He offered her his hand. "C'mon."

Vicki shoved his hand away and pulled the blanket closer.

"No thanks. I'll stay on the couch."

"Have it your way," Henry sighed. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

"I'll show you," Nathan grumbled, flipping on a light switch. "I'll show you who's a _real _ man. I can prove you made the wrong decision." 

A strong wind caused the front door to slam behind him, and he flinched. His foot paused mid-air, waiting for the tell-tale thud of Vicki clambering out of bed. When he didn't hear it, he set his foot down and cautiously made his way into the inner office.

Early morning light curled around the surface of her desk, illuminating the growing stack of files she had laid out. He rifled through the first one, found nothing of interest, and hurriedly put it back.

"Address book… address book…" he muttered, yanking open drawers and shuffling papers about.

Upon his third try, he held up the tiny book in triumph. He flipped through the thin pages until he found the letter 'h', after no luck finding Henry's address under 'Fitzroy.'

"Hanson… Heerkens… Henry." He grinned. "Gotcha."

* * *

Vicki awoke sometime latter feeling a great deal more like herself. A glance at the nearby clock told her it was a little after noon; seven hours until sunset. 

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she stared into the darkness that surrounded her. Henry's apartment during the day often disoriented her, for even though she knew the sun was balanced high in the sky, the room was pitch black. She fumbled for the closet lamp, and managed to provide herself with enough illumination to find the light switch.

Even with the lights on, the room was still dimly lit. Henry's lighting had always been an issue for the two of them, Vicki unable to see in the dark, Henry's eyes somewhat sensitive to the bright fluorescents she required. He had compromised by purchasing a few extra lamps, which usually did the trick. Vicki turned them on now and made her way into the kitchen. The inside of the refrigerator looked like it could be that of any single man in Toronto; wine, a bag of leftover Chinese (Undoubtedly hers), a carton of milk, a jug of orange juice, and a bag of lunchmeat (Also all hers). The only tell-tale difference could be discovered by opening the freezer, where bags of blood littered the shelves.

"No wonder his favorite charity is the Red Cross," she said to herself.

She grabbed the orange juice and drank it straight from the jug, knowing Henry wasn't a big fan of any liquids besides blood and water. She leaned casually against the counter, staring around at the familiar surroundings. She liked Henry's apartment a great deal, loved the simplicity and long lines, the stylish furnishings and high-tech equipment. It had felt like something out of a fairy tale the first time she had been there, old paintings littering the walls, fifteenth century armor resting on a pedestal in the corner. Now, strangely, it felt like a second home to her. A place on the couch had already molded itself to her body, and she often found Henry sitting in it when she arrived.

However, she rarely spent time in Henry's bedroom. It felt sacred to her, like a church or something. In a way, it was the house of the dead, or the undead, depending on how one looked at it, and it simply gave her the creeps, making love in a room that housed the nonliving for twelve hours a day. She hadn't explained this irrational fear to Henry, and had decided it was probably something she would never tell him.

She made her way to the front door, planning on doing some background checks on Nathan before returning after sunset, but realized she had left her bag in the other room. She threaded her way back through the kitchen and into the living room when she heard the door open. Her breath caught in her throat, and she tried to shove the rising panic back down.

Footsteps padded quietly against the wood floor, and she silently slipped back into the kitchen just as the intruder made its way into the living room. She circled behind it, and without a sound, delivered a swift kick to the back of somebody's knees. The figure landed on the group with a soft "Oooosh!" as the wind was knocked out of what was clearly a man. A familiar man.

Vicki yanked the figure onto its back and sunk her knees into the intruder's chest.

"Nathan," she said with a smirk. "Nice to see you."

"Would you mind? That hurts," he grunted, motioning to his chest.

Vicki ground them down harder.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are _you _doing here? I thought you were at home."

"I thought you were _going _ home."

"I was. I just came by to talk to your so-called friend that you're obviously more than friends with."

"Henry and I are none of your business," Vicki snarled. "What did you want to talk to him about?"

"You."

Vicki raised an eyebrow.

"Really."

"Really."

"So you think you can lay a claim on me, too, is that it? Mark your territory? Jesus, Nathan, why not just pee on me like a dog?"

"Whatever. If Mike and Henry can fight over you, why can't I?"

"Because I'm not interested."

"You certainly seemed interested last night when you were kissing me," Nathan pointed out.

"I most certainly was not," Vicki grumbled. " _You _ kissed _me._ Remember?"

"And I distinctly remember you kissing me back. Ouch!"

Vicki had ground her knees a bit more into his shoulder blades.

"Piss off, Nathan, I'm not going to go out with you. Though I'd give you an award for persistence, creepy as it is." She paused, then. "How did you even know where Henry lives?"

"Phonebook."

"Oh. Right."

_But Henry's number and address aren't listed_. _Great. So he's a lying bastard, too.  
_

"Are you going to get off me?" he asked when she didn't move.

"No. Not until you tell me why you're here."

"I already told you. I wanted to talk to Henry."

"You don't even know Henry."

"I know that he loves you, and that's good enough for me. I like to know about my competition."

Vicki glowered at him. "Because I'm this great prize everyone's suddenly out to win, is that it?"

"No!"

"Then what is it, huh? It can't be the sex, since you haven't gotten any."

"In my head it was good."

Vicki smirked. "You have no idea."

She climbed off him, though she didn't offer a hand.

"Get out of here, Nathan, before I call the cops."

"Is Henry even here?" he asked, peering over her shoulder as she shoved him towards the door.

"Go!"

She slammed the door in his face and made sure the lock clicked loudly as she watched Nathan make his way back towards the elevator through the peep-hole. She sagged against the door then, the back of her legs pressed against the cool wood floors.

"That was close," she whispered. Her brow sunk into a deep v as thoughts suddenly began to race through her mind. "What the fuck _was _ that, anyway?"

Perhaps it would be better if she stayed after all.

* * *

"He _what?_" Henry exclaimed when Vicki told him what had happened. 

"He said he wanted to talk to you."

"And you believed him?!"

"No! Why do you think I tackled him?"

Henry shrugged. "Just for kicks?"

"I wish," Vicki muttered. What she really needed was a scumbag she could beat up without it mattering.

"I got him out of here, didn't I?"

"And what if you hadn't?"

"But I did."

"But what if you hadn't?"

"Henry, stop being argumentative."

A brow disappeared beneath a lock of curly brown hair.

"Don't be argumentative? Do my ears deceive me? The great Temper Tantrum herself, asking me not to argue?"

"Fuck you," she grunted. "You'd probably be dead if I hadn't gotten him to leave."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better," Henry replied sarcastically.

"Okay, seriously? It's not time to play Prince of Men," Vicki said, clearly annoyed. "Just say 'thank you' and we can go back to the way things were."

"You mean, go back to before or after you said you loved me? Because I'm not very fond of either memory at the moment."

"Henry, don't do this."

He got up and made his way to the sliding doors, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. He hated this, how she could turn him into a completely irrational, emotional pile of goo. He heard her sigh and saw her reflection lean its head over the back of the couch. She was clearly as frustrated as he was.

"Why do things always have to be like this?" he asked, his voice filled with an undetectable sadness.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like _this_," Henry replied, his gaze encompassing the entire, empty room. "Why do you have to avoid the things that obviously need to be spoken about? Why do you always worry about everyone else's problems before your own? And if you love me the way you say you do, why does it feel as if we're miles apart when we're in the same room?"

Vicki blew out a breath.

"It's just the way I am."

"People can change."

"Not me."

"So this thing between us. You'll never give it a chance?"

"I never said that."

"So why are you pushing me away?"

"I'm not. I'm…" She searched for the right words. "I'm just not sure."

"Not sure that you love me?"

She shook her head. "No, I know that."

"So, what? You're not sure that we can make this work? I already told you we could do this. If you gave it a try, if you fought for this as much as I am, we could beat the odds."

She looked as if she were about to say something, but decided better of it. Instead, she lowered her eyes to the floor and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, insistent.

"How? How could this ever work? You sleep during the day, the only time I can actually see. You do everything at night, and when am I supposed to sleep? You drink blood, I like orange juice. You sleep on the same side of the bed as me, so that's automatically a problem."

He heard the small smile in her voice.

"Normal couples have worse things to deal with than we do."

"Maybe, maybe not. But do you really want to spend the rest of my life with a whiny, argumentative ex-cop who's going blind?"

Henry noticed that she didn't say 'your life.' His life, should he so choose, could last for all eternity. Hers, on the other hand…

"So you're worried that you won't love me twenty years from now?"

"No," she said sadly. "I'm afraid you won't love _me_."

Henry stared at her in surprise. So that's what this was about?

"If you haven't noticed, or didn't know, I'm kind of a one-person gal."

"I'm not worried about your faithfulness, Vicki."

She shot him a pointed look.

"Ah."

She shrugged. "There's always going be other women with you."

"Maybe. But I'd always come home to you."

"It's not good enough," she said sadly. "It's either all of me, or none of me. It's up to you."

If Henry could feed from her and her alone, he would do it in a heartbeat. But he didn't know if her body could handle it. Still, he had to try.

"And if I promise there would be no other women? Would you give it a shot then?"

Vicki looked up at him, eyes full of a hope he had never seen before.

"Maybe."

Henry held out his hand.

"Okay. From this moment forward, I, Henry Fitzroy, hereby do solemnly swear to drink no other blood than that belonging to Vicki Nelson."

Vicki considered the hand and words for a long moment, then slowly placed her hand in his and shook it.

"Deal."

"Deal," Henry grinned.

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Nathan growled, throwing his jacket in the general direction of the coat rack, missing it entirely. "I cannot _believe _this! Who does she think she is? Wonder Woman?" 

His knees ached from where Vicki had kicked him, and he sighed in frustration as his legs refused to comply entirely with the rest of his body. He stumbled up the stairs and climbed the ladder to the attic, locking the door firmly behind him.

The smell of rot met his nostrils and he choked back the vomit he could feel rising at the back of his throat.

He shoved everything off the table and pulled a large leather-bound book from a nearby shelf, flipping to a well-known page.

"With this knot I seal this hex

You will not sleep, you will not rest

Knots of anger, knots of hate

Discord brings you to your fate

I tie this second knot makes two

Bringing darkness over you

Slander, discord, evil too

Bringing darkness straight to you

With this third knot, I do blind

Weaving chaos in your mind

Hex of anger, hex of hate

Bring her down, I will not wait."

* * *

Vicki could feel Henry's presence nearby, and smiled to herself. She ran her hands over the bedside table in search of her glasses, and slipped the ends over her ears. When she opened her eyes, she found herself engulfed in darkness, which wasn't unusual, since Henry's bedroom was pitch-black a large percent of the time. 

"Could you turn on a light?" she asked.

She felt him roll over and pad quietly across the room. She heard the click of the light switch, but was surprised when the room remained a hazy black.

"Henry, I'm serious. Stop playing."

"I turned it on, Vicki. Stop pretending your eyesight's worse than it is."

"They're on?" Her voice shook.

"Yes."

He saw the look of fear that passed over her otherwise calm features.

"Vicki?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, expecting the inky blackness to disappear. It didn't.

"Vicki, what is it?" Henry asked, coming back to sit on the bed.

She could feel his weight, feel the corner of the bed sink a little, but couldn't see him. She reached out a trembling hand, thankful when his fingers closed around hers.

"I… I can't see, Henry. I can't see!"


	8. Chapter 8

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Two months. That's all it took for Vicki Nelson's world to fall apart. In sixty days she had lost her eyesight, her job, her home, and her sense of self. She was angry and bitter, and nobody questioned her reasons.

Upon realizing she would never see again, Vicki had been forced to quit her job as a private investigator, the one thing she'd had to hold on to all these years after quitting the force. It had reminded her that she was still good at her job, still the best in her field.

Now she was good for nothing. Having no job, she'd been forced to lease out the apartment and the office, had packed her things into a couple dozen cardboard boxes and moved them into Henry Fitzroy's spare bedroom. She'd given up her right to the left side of the bed and found herself wrapped around him each day while he slept. Besides her job and apartment, she'd lost her sleeping pattern as well; she now slept during the day, in order for Henry to look out for her at night. Like a vampire, she couldn't remember what sunrise looked like, and the only thing she had to guide her was her memory.

Now, sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped firmly around a glass of milk, she sighed. She was becoming more and more like Henry every day.

The milk grew bitter in her mouth and she spit it back into the cup. Or what she had thought was the cup, but was actually her hand. Cool liquid seeped into her pants and she cried out in surprise. Then anger overtook her, and she threw the glass across the room, listening to it shatter as it hit the wall.

Henry's hurried footsteps beat against the floor, and within moments he was at her side.

"What happened?"

_ I don't even know where a glass I'm holding is. Could I be any more helpless? _

"I spilled."

Her eyes stared right through him, and Henry had a feeling he would never get used to that. He glanced down and saw the dark spot on her jeans.

"Do you want a change of clothes?"

"No."

"Okay." He crossed the room and swept up the broken glass, lest she step on it later. "Do you want any more milk?"

"No."

Henry sighed. She looked so helpless, knees pulled up to her chest, her lips drawn into a frown, hands trembling with barely-controlled frustration.

"How do people live like this?" she muttered.

Henry wished he could provide her with an answer, but he hadn't known many blind people in his time.

"I can barely get around the apartment, and I've been living here for nearly two months, plus all the times I've been here before that."

"You'll get the hang of it eventually," Henry promised. He had no doubt she would, for Vicki Nelson couldn't remain helpless for long.

"Yeah, well…" She shrugged.

"You're getting a lot better," he pointed out.

"Just because I didn't trip over the sofa today doesn't mean I'm doing better."

That had to be one of the hardest things for Henry, watching her fumble about a world she had once known so well. Every day she would stumble out of the bedroom, arms outstretched, searching for her favorite piece of furniture. And every day she had ran into it, Henry having to either pick her up off the floor, or barely catch her before she fell. He was surprised she hadn't done herself serious harm yet.

As he did every night, Henry asked tentatively, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

And, as she responded every night, Vicki shook her head vehemently. "Fuck no."

"Vicki, you have to leave the apartment _some _day."

"Not today."

"Then when?"

"How the hell should I know?" she snapped. Her temper was short nowadays, more so than it ever had been.

"Come on," Henry said, pulling her to her feet. "I won't let go. I promise."

"Piss off, Henry," she snarled, shoving him away.

She wanted to pace, wanted to express her anger in some other form, but found that she couldn't. Pacing would lead her to run into things, and while screaming rarely got her anywhere with Henry, it made her feel better.

She could feel the tears coming and angrily swiped at useless eyes. She had managed to ford the living room and felt the handle to the balcony doors beneath her fingers. She yanked it open and threw herself outside, her hands gripping the railing. A light summer breeze ruffled her hair, drying the tears as they slid down her cheeks.

"Fuck!" she cried, pounding the metal railing with ineffectual fists.

Henry watched, heartbroken. She had been like this that first night, too. It stood out like a sore thumb amongst five hundred years of memories.

_ She was white as a ghost. Vicki could hear the blood pounding in her ears, could feel her whole body tremble in insurmountable fear. She wanted to scream, but words could not escape tightly pursed lips; wanted to cry, but the tears seemed to be stuck behind eyes that no longer could see. She clung to Henry's hand, thankful that if she broke any bones, they would at least repair themselves automatically._

"_Are you sure?" he asked._

_She nodded. She knew her eyes well enough to know they were no longer working._

_"Oh God…"_

_He cupped her face in his hands, his heart pounding. He was glad she couldn't see the look on his face, for it was one of bestial anger; anger at the person who had done this, for retinitis pigmentosa did not just, all of the sudden, take a person's sight. Vicki may have had poor vision, but she could still see._

_And now she couldn't. Henry couldn't wrap his mind around what that would mean; he couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors running through Vicki's mind. He only had to deal with the side-effects; she had to deal with the real thing._

_A face that was so good at hiding emotion was no longer blank. Even in the dark, Henry could see the frown, her lips a thin white line; could see unseeing eyes dart every which way, hoping to catch a glimmer of light, a shadow, a shape, anything; could see her tanned skin drained of any color, leaving her looking pale and haunted. His heart broke._

_"Vicki…" _

_He breathed her name, and suddenly her world came crashing down around her as she felt his fingers move from her face._

"_Don't leave me!" she cried out, her hands scrambling for him. "Don't leave me alone!"_

_The raw terror in her voice was more than he could bear. For only the second time in nearly five hundred years of half-life, Henry Fitzroy cried; cried for the woman he loved, cried for her helplessness, for his inability to fix it. He felt the tears stain his cheeks, could taste the salt as one lodged itself in the corner of his lips. _

_He reached out to her, pulling her firmly to him. She buried her head in his chest, her body wracked with painful sobs. She dug her nails into his back, afraid that if she let go, she would lose him forever. _

"_Don't leave me," she kept repeating, and it took all of Henry's strength not to run away._

_Her fear was real, it had a face. Blindness was a concept she had avoided since the day she was diagnosed with the degenerative eye disease. She knew that one day she would go completely blind, but today wasn't supposed to be that day. Yesterday she could see. Today she couldn't._

_Henry had never seen her like this, so alone and afraid. She was terrified, clinging to him like a frightened child who climbed into bed with Mom and Dad when there was a summer storm. Her body shook, her skin was clammy, and he could feel the blood curse through her veins at a rapid pace._

_Vicki's fear terrified him. He wanted to run, to pretend this had never happened, to return to a time when things were simpler. He wished he could separate his fear of and his love for her, but he couldn't. He couldn't leave her, not in her most vulnerable hour. This change was pivotal, and she needed someone to stand by her side. Who better than a man who would never die?_

_"Shh," he whispered into her hair, running his fingers through it, gently tugging out the knots. "Shh. We'll… we'll figure something out, okay? It's going to be fine."_

_But he knew it wouldn't be. Fine was relative, and fine was no longer a part of Vicki Nelson's world.  
_

He stepped out into the crisp night air and sighed, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back into him, their bodies a single entity. He could feel her shaking, but disregarded it; if he mentioned it, she would grow even angrier, and neither of them needed that right now.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, his chin resting lightly atop her head.

"For breaking your glass."

Henry smiled.

"Don't worry about it."

"I've broken nearly the entire set."

"Don't worry about it," he repeated. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn that possessions mean very little in the grand scheme of things. Glasses I can replace. You, on the other hand, I can't."

"Maybe you should," Vicki muttered.

Henry's eyes flashed above her head.

"What?"

She turned around to gaze unseeingly up at him. His eyes had returned to normal, but his face was etched in anger.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asked, reaching out and gently running her fingers over his face. She could feel the tension, and drew back.

"Because I love you," he whispered, his face very close to hers. "Somebody has to look out for you. I'm never going to leave you, Vicki. Especially not now."

"Right. Before I just needed a chauffeur and an extra set of eyes. Now I need a nanny."

Henry sighed. She had never been good at being dependent on other people.

"I'm not your nanny, Vicki. I'm just the guy who happens to be in love with you, who isn't going to desert you just because you want to regain your independence."

Which Henry found a bit ironic. Vicki wanted so much to be on her own, to be able to rely solely on herself once more, and yet she was terrified to even leave the apartment, even with him at her side. She hadn't even told Mike about her progression to complete blindness, and Henry had a feeling the detective would not be happy when he found out.

"How can you love me?" she whispered brokenly. "How can you love this?" She gestured to unseeing eyes. "I'm cranky, depressed, afraid, and a coward. Everything you said you hated in a woman. I'm like, your anti-woman, Henry!"

"Stop it!" he cried, grabbing her face with both his hands and pulling her close. "Stop it! Stop fighting this!" He kissed her, kissed every surface of her face he could find. She tried to push him away, tears streaming down her cheeks, but he refused to let her go. He wiped away her tears, and when she'd calmed down he felt her sag against him.

"You're everything I've ever wanted. More than I deserve," he whispered into her hair.

"You never should have fallen in love with me," she replied sadly, and stepped from the comfort of his arms. She might as well have slapped him in the face, but she couldn't see the pain in Henry's eyes, so she had no idea the effect her words had had on him.

She waited for the briefest of moments, expecting him to help guide her back to the bedroom, but when he didn't come, she sucked in a breath, shoved her hands out in front of her, and began the tedious process of deciphering a world dissolved in darkness.

Henry leaned against the balcony railing, watching sadly as she hit the couch. Twice. He saw her knock over a lamp, heard her swear angrily at her incompetence, and yet he remained where he was. If she wanted independence, he would give it to her.

The fact that she was being flippant about his love for her had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

* * *

"Vicki, it's Mike. Call me." 

Vicki disconnected her phone and sighed. Mike's voice had been filled with worry, and she wondered if Coreen had told him what had happened.

_Maybe he decided to drop by the office. That is now home to an old lady with one too many cats. That would've surprised him.  
_

Then she reconsidered.

_He couldn't have gone to the office. If he had, he'd know to look for me here, and he hasn't come barging through the door yet.  
_

She couldn't believe they hadn't spoken in two months. Granted, the eight months of silence between the time she'd left the force and when they'd reconnected during that week when she'd first met Henry had been much longer. Still, the past eight weeks seemed decidedly more painful.

She debated calling him back, on telling him everything, but eventually decided against it. Which needn't have mattered, since there was a sudden banging, Mike's voice incredibly loud, even through the thick wood-paneled door.

_Maybe he went to the office after all.  
_

She made her way to the door and pulled it open enough to poke her head into the hallway.

"You don't need to yell, Mike. I'm blind, not deaf."

_Oops. That was a bit obvious.  
_

"Are you going to let me in?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"Henry's sleeping."

Mike rolled his eyes.

"As if he's going to hear me."

Vicki shrugged. She couldn't let him in, couldn't let him see her so helpless. She didn't need pity right now.

"So, why is your office suddenly inhabited by an old cat lady who smells about a million years old?"

Vicki swallowed. She couldn't lie, not to his face. Even if she couldn't see it.

"I quit."

"Quit what?"

"My job, you idiot."

"Vicki, if you needed rent money, I would've helped you out. Hell, Henry could've bought you the fucking building."

"We weren't exactly on speaking terms," she pointed out.

"We're talking now."

_And god, I wish we weren't.  
_

"Yeah, well. It's a little more complicated than that."

_How hasn't he noticed yet?_, she wondered. _Is he really this dense? _

"Well, are you going to explain why you're here, at least? Because Henry isn't even awake yet. So what are you doing, just waiting around for fang boy to wake up?"

"I live here," she said simply. She wished she could have seen the look on his face.

The anger in his voice more than made up for it.

"You're what?"

"Living here. With Henry."

"Why?" he choked out.

Well, if he hadn't noticed…

"Because I'm fucking blind, you moron! I'm completely blind now, okay? Happy? I quit my job, I moved in with Henry. I'm a miserably blind ex-cop, now ex-P.I., who has to have someone around at all times to make sure I don't fall off any cliffs."

Mike stared at her, and suddenly realized that the entire time he'd been watching her, she hadn't blinked. Her eyes seemed trained on him, but there was a void that had never been there before. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed.

"Oh God, Vic…"

He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she backed away.

"Why the hell didn't you call me?" he asked, his voice pained.

She shrugged again. "I don't know."

"You didn't think I deserved to know?"

"Mike, I already told you. We weren't speaking."

"This is way more important than you choosing Henry! After all we've been through, I think I have a right to know!"

But he knew he didn't. After the last time they'd fought, he knew he was no longer entitled to any part of her life, considering he had told her he wasn't interested in being in it at all.

Vicki wished she could see his face, but that didn't stop her from throwing open the door and attempting to deliver a swift punch to Mike's midsection. He easily dodged her, then reached out and took her hand in both of his.

"Vic, c'mon. Let me help you," he pleaded. "You can't do this on your own."

"I'm not alone," she snapped. "I have Henry."

And the words seemed right. Even as she said them, she knew it was true. Henry had been there for her, would continue to stand by her side through everything.

_I have Henry,_ she repeated to herself. She smiled slightly.

"He's asleep half the day, Vicki!"

The smile faded.

She tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but he held tight.

"Come on. Come over to my place. We'll talk."

"I don't want to talk to you, Mike," she replied tartly.

She didn't bother to tell him she was afraid of leaving the comfort of Henry's apartment.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Vicki! If you just _have _ to be here when fang boy wakes up, I'll bring you back later."

"No."

"Vicki-"

"Mike, I said no." She began to shut the door. "It was nice of you to stop by."

And with that she hurriedly closed the door and turned the lock, listening to Mike's muffled yelling through the wall.

"Goddamnit, woman!" he cried, putting his foot to the wall with a loud thud.

Vicki just sighed. 'Goddamnit' was right.

* * *

Vicki was waiting when he awoke. Coming out of the bedroom, tucking a t-shirt into his favorite pair of jeans, he stopped in surprise. Vicki was slowly making her way around the living room, running her fingertips over every surface, muttering to herself. 

"Five steps from the chair to the balcony."

She took a few more steps, brow furrowed, trying to remember.

"So… thirty steps to get across the living room… three from the chair to the couch…"

Her head swung around then, becoming aware of Henry's presence.

"Hi," she said, leaning casually against the glass doors, the brightly-lit city of Toronto at her back.

"Hi." He glanced around. "What're you doing?"

"Memorizing," she explained. "If I'm going to live here, I need to know where everything is."

Henry smiled. "I see. So running into the couch every day…?"

"I never bothered to remember where it was," she said simply.

"Ah." He came to stand before her, planting a kiss on the palm of her hand. "And how's it going?"

She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'll get it eventually."

"You're being very big about this," Henry pointed out, taking a seat at the counter. "What brought on the sudden change?"

"Celluci," she grunted, cautiously taking a few steps in the direction of the sofa.

"You talked to Mike?"

"He stopped by today," she explained. "Well, more like tried to storm the place, but…" She shrugged.

"How'd it go?"

"He was mad," Vicki said. "I figured he would be."

She lowered herself onto the couch with a triumphant grin, settling back into the rich leather.

"He wanted to help."

"Help how?"

"He wanted me to stay at his place," she laughed bitterly.

"What'd you say?"

"I said that I was fine with staying here."

Henry fought a smile.

"I'm sure that made Mike happy."

"Yeah," Vicki snorted.

Henry was glad to see the Vicki he knew and loved slowly reemerging. She was still depressed, to be sure, but there was a light in her eye he hadn't seen for quite some time.

"Come on," Vicki said, pulling herself off the couch and carefully counting the steps to the door. ""Let's go for a walk."

Henry grinned, reaching for his coat. He tucked her arm firmly in his, and opened the door.

Stepping onto the threshold, he saw her pause momentarily.

"Vicki?"

Her voice was quiet but controlled.

"Just promise you won't let go."

Henry tugged her out into the hall.

"I promise."

* * *

Mike stared blankly at the television. The sound of sticks against ice quietly trickled in amongst his senses, but he ignored them. He loved to watch hockey, like any good Canadian sports enthusiast, but tonight he couldn't concentrate. His body may have been sagging into the old green plaid recliner, but his mind was with Vicki Nelson, inside Henry Fitzroy's apartment. 

Blind.

"How can she be blind?" he wondered out loud, rubbing a hand over a rough patch of stubble forming at the base of his throat. "She's just… not. She can't be."

He had tried to convince himself that she was lying, that she just hadn't wanted to see him. But the deadened look in her eyes was evidence enough for a seasoned detective such as himself. She had looked at him without really seeing, had stared right through him, and missed the opportunity to punch him. Even a half-blind Vicki Nelson would never have missed that shot.

Blind.

Blindness meant a lot of things, and not just for Vicki, but for everyone in her life.

_ I wonder if her mother knows.  
_

Blindness meant that, essentially, Vicki was helpless. And helpless was not something Victoria Nelson had ever been, or could ever be good at. Mike was certain she was doing everything she could to adapt, but he wondered if Henry Fitzroy was the right person to be helping her. _He _ wanted to be the one to hold her hand, to guide her.

_ But you forfeited that right a long time ago.  
_

He had been foolish to push her away. Regardless of how he felt about Henry and her decision to be with him, she needed someone to look out for her during the day, and Henry could not do that. For a woman as independent as Vicki to lead at least a somewhat-normal life she needed to be able to function in sunlight. And now she had sequestered herself to the hours of darkness where most people chose to end their day. Though, he supposed, her entire life was now made up of darkness, so what did it matter if she slept during the day and truly lived at night?

"What am I saying?" Mike muttered, turning off the TV. "No. She needs to be able to live a normal life. During the day. I'm not letting her turn into a vampire. Or whatever."

He grabbed his jacket and slid into the front seat of his car. The night was cool, but not overtly so, and he drove to Henry's with the windows down, the evening news playing quietly in the background.

He flashed his badge at the doorman, and made his way up to the seventeenth floor, rapping three times on the penthouse door. When nobody answered, he tried again. Nothing.

"Why don't apartments have doorbells?" he grumbled, trying to peer in through the tiny peephole slightly below his eyelevel.

He listened, but couldn't hear any voices. Sighing, he leaned against the wall. He had come with valiant intentions, but now, standing alone in the hallway, he felt disheartened and unsure of himself. Did he really think he could convince Vicki to live with him?

_ You really _are_ a dumbass.  
_

Vicki Nelson was not a woman easily convinced, especially when it came to other peoples' perception of what was good for her. If she had wanted to tell him about her blindness, she would have. If she'd wanted to live with him, he would have found her on his doorstep. Obviously, she hadn't wanted either.

Deciding it had been foolish to come, regardless of how much he wanted to help, Mike resignedly left the building. From down the block he could see two familiar figures making their way along Bloor.

Vicki and Henry were slowly heading downtown, her fingers wrapped tightly around his arm. It looked as if she were smiling, and Mike wondered what had changed since his visit earlier in the day.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he began to trace their steps, and eventually found himself close enough to hear their conversation.

"…don't know. I'm not very fond of bats."

"Well, I'm as blind as one."

Mike could see Henry smile.

"Maybe. But I still don't like them."

"I thought vampires could turn into bats," Vicki teased.

"How many times have I told you not to listen to what they say in the movies?"

She shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

Mike saw that she was about to walk headlong into a garbage can, but Henry easily maneuvered her out of harm's way. He made sure that Vicki didn't come into contact with any other people, and each time she got too close to the curb, he gently pulled her back, all without saying a word.

"It's nice out," Vicki commented as a light breeze blew curls across her face.

Henry nodded, then remembered she couldn't see. "Yeah. It's just another quiet summer night in Toronto. Moon's out."

Vicki raised her face to the sky, letting the pale moonlight cast a surreal glow across her features.

"The weatherman said it was going to be a full moon tonight."

"He was right," Henry replied, glaring at a group of teenagers that sped by on bicycles. "It's pretty."

"Pretty?" Vicki teased, poking him in the rib with a long, bony finger.

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, pretty. Are boys not allowed to say that?"

Vicki chuckled. "You can say whatever you want."

Henry smiled down at her. "I'm glad you're doing alright today."

Vicki's head swung in his direction, and this time it wasn't as hard for Henry to stare back into her unseeing eyes; they were still that color somewhere between green and hazel, and still beautiful.

"Yeah… I feel a little more like myself," she agreed, stopping in front of a small coffee shop. "It smells good."

"Did you want anything?"

She paused for a second, considering. After a moment, "No, that's okay. I don't really feel like coffee tonight."

"You sure? My treat."

She smiled genuinely at him. "Well… If you insist."

Mike watched from across the street as Henry carefully guided her through a maze of tables and the throng of people that hovered near the counter. His hand never left the small of her back, and when they emerged a few minutes later, steaming cups in hand, he never let her arm leave the spot she'd carved out between his side and the crook of his elbow.

He wasn't fond of Henry, there was no doubt, but Mike couldn't help but feel as if a small weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Vick had finally accepted help, and Henry was guiding her, though discreetly, and he appreciated that. What Vicki needed was someone to look out for her, but for it to not be glaringly obvious. She didn't want to be "that blind girl," and Henry was making sure that stereotype never reached her.

As much as Mike didn't want to admit it, Henry was doing a great job of taking care of her, and it took all his strength not to hate him for it.

* * *

Nathan watched the chaos unfold around him and grinned. The woman who had turned him down for a creature of the night was blind, she had ruined the life of her ex-lover by pushing him away, and now all that was left was to destroy Henry Fitzroy. 

It wouldn't be difficult, for there were many ways to accomplish this goal. He could easily have done it himself in any number of ways; spells, forcing him to stay out until daylight, opening his blinds (failure the first time did not eliminate it as an option), a stake through the heart. Yes, any number of things would destroy the life of one Henry Fitzroy.

But he had decided it would be more fun to let Victoria Nelson do the dirty deed for him. She was already pushing him away, which had to hurt more than any physical damage Nathan could have inflicted.

And thus he had created a plan; a foolproof plan to rid himself of Mr. Henry Fitzroy.

It would be like going to a Broadway show, sitting in a private box, enjoying the chance to see everything unfold below him. And, at the very end, he would rise with the rest of the crowd and applaud a wonderful performance.

Only this time there would be one small, minute difference; instead of watching the show, he would be starring in it.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, and Nathan watched from a distance as Vicki and her vampire lover grew closer still. They slept during the day, and each night they ventured a little further than they had the previous, Vicki slowly growing accustomed to the feel of the city at night, her feet reestablishing paths to her favorite places; a tiny coffee shop on Huron Street, the occult bookstore she'd taken to inhabiting when a particularly strange case presented itself, the comic book venue Henry often had signings at. Each place held fond memories, and she was beginning to form new ones as the weeks passed. 

She and Henry had begun to work through their commitment issues. She had explained her irrational fear of settling down, and Henry had described his inability to be with one woman for too long, except when it came to her. They had both made allowances for the other's lifestyle, Henry giving Vicki the space she needed while still being there to protect her, Vicki allowing Henry the occasional "midnight snack" at the nearby goth clubs.

Everything, it seemed, was going well. Or as well as could be expected when a couple consisted of a blind ex-cop and a five hundred year old ex-prince and vampire.

Vicki sat on the floor, leaning against the back of the couch. It was morning, and while she couldn't see the sunrise, she could feel the sun's warmth spread across her face. She missed this, being able to witness the world waking up each morning, but having begun to live her life at night, she had also come to realize that time didn't stop when the sun set; so much happened during the hours of darkness that she had had to change her worldview to fit what she had discovered.

Sitting alone in Henry's apartment, his – _Dead? Undead? Sleeping? ­ – _body not more than twenty feet away, locked in the sanctuary that was his bedroom, she smiled.

_ I can do this_, she thought proudly. _I can be in love, I can live with a man, I can function as a blind ex-cop/ex-PI. Nothing to it.  
_

But there was a lot to it. Henry had been gracious enough to rearrange a few things to make it easier for her to get around, and had went in search of books and programs that would teach her to read braille. She had initially bristled at the idea, completely forgetting that she would now need a new way to read.

"Why can't you just read it to me?" she'd asked, frustrated by the pages upon pages of bumps beneath her fingertips.

"I thought you wanted to be independent," Henry teased, guiding her hand over the paper.

But she had slowly begun to readjust, and Henry was proud of the progress she'd made. The simplest things still easily frustrated her, and he sometimes caught her staring unseeingly out the window, wishing for her world to once again be illuminated in sunlight, but for the most part, she was no longer what he would have considered depressed.

Her fingers danced over the plush Asian rug beneath her fingers and she smiled. She had liked Henry's apartment enough when she could see, and it was decidedly more exciting being blind. There were numerous surfaces and textures to help her identify where she was, and in her mind's eye she could still remember what most of it looked like. Her eyesight may never have been very good, but her memory was extraordinary.

So lost in her thoughts was she that she never noticed the apartment door open, and by the time she had, it was too late. Hands closed around her throat, and she knew no more.

* * *

Vicki awoke sometime later, her head balancing precariously atop slumped shoulders. She opened her eyes before remembering she couldn't see. Which wouldn't have mattered, because she found herself in a cool, damp room about the size of a small closet. Her hands were tied behind her back with a thick rope, and her legs were bent uncomfortably before her, her ankles also bound. 

"Damnit," she muttered through clenched teeth, regretting it almost immediately. Her head began to pound at the applied pressure, and she leaned back against the wall.

_ Great. I have no idea where I am, can't see a damned thing and _ – something scurried past her – _I'm surrounded by rats. Fantastic. I hate rats.  
_

She didn't need to wonder who had attacked her; Nathan's cologne lingered in the oppressing air surrounding her. It was hard to breathe, due to the fact that each time she tried to draw in fresh oxygen, the small amount of air in the closet seemed to disappear.

So, taking small, shallow breaths, Vicki carefully shifted her weight, trying to find the door. It took her a few moments, but there were only a few places it could be, and the squeaking of rats was making her nervous. Her legs shook as she stood up, and she took a moment to steady herself before she felt her fingers curl around the doorknob.

She tugged. Hard.

Nothing. The handle jiggled, but it had obviously been locked.

"Damnit, Nathan!" she shouted, putting her weight into it. She took a step back, then rammed her shoulder into the door.

Nothing.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

She tried again.

It didn't budge.

"Great," she cried in exasperation, sinking to the floor in defeat. Her head was pounding, her pulse was racing, and she was growing insanely aware of how tiny the room was. She could feel something small and furry crawl over her ankle, and violently kicked it off. She heard its muffled grunt as it hit a wall, then scurried away into a corner.

"Damnit, Nathan, I hate rats!"

* * *

Henry rose slowly, the darkness threatening to pull him back momentarily. He easily ignored it and opened his eyes, surprised to find the right side of the bed unoccupied. Perhaps Vicki had been unable to sleep. He could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, so he pulled on a sweatshirt and opened the bedroom doors. 

Vicki was in the kitchen, just as he'd expected, her fingers roving over the granite countertops, removing plates and glasses from the cupboards, then carefully putting them back. Henry watched in amusement for a while, then coughed, making his presence known.

"Hi," he said cheerfully, planting a kiss on the inside of her palm.

"Hi."

Henry frowned at her tone. She was obviously not in a good mood.

"What're you doing?" he tried.

"Memorizing," she grunted, her fingers curled around a wine glass. "I'm trying to remember where the dishes go."

"Why? You don't cook."

She scowled. "So? You do."

"I don't understand. If you never use the dishes, why do you need to know where they go?"

"Because I just do, okay?" she snapped.

Henry held up his hands in defense. "Okay, okay. Fine."

He sighed. She had been happy enough for a time; he supposed he should have expected this.

"What am I doing?" she cried, and Henry whirled in surprise at the sound of shattering glass.

"Vicki?"

"What am I doing? What are _we_ doing?" she whimpered, sinking to the floor.

"Hey, shhh," Henry soothed, sitting down beside her. "Don't say that. We're fine."

"Why did I ever think this could work?" she sobbed, wiping hopelessly at the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks. She turned unblinking eyes on him. "What was I thinking? Am I crazy? I can't love a vampire!"

Henry was growing more and more concerned by the moment. Maybe she wasn't fine; maybe she never had been. Had he missed something? Was she not as adjusted as he'd thought?"

"Vicki, stop it," he said, grabbing her hands, which she easily pulled away.

"Don't touch me," she spat, hugging herself. "Don't ever touch me."

"What?!" Henry cried, watching helplessly as she pulled away from him. "Vicki, what's going on? What's wrong?"

"This," she motioned to him, "can't work. This can't be. Us. We can't do this."

"Why not?" he asked, his voice wrenched with pain.

"You're a vampire, Henry!"

"I thought we were past all that."

He tried to reach out to her, to hold her, but she shoved him bodily away.

"Don't touch me, you monster!"

Henry froze. One hand trembled near her face, the other pressed against the cool tile covering the floor. Slowly he stood up, his entire body shaking with hurt and rage.

The figure curled up on the floor could feel his anger radiating like the heat from the sun, and for a long moment there was nothing but silence; just heavy breathing and anger.

Finally, Henry turned slowly and made for the door.

"I'm going for a walk," he muttered.

A door slammed.

A moment later, Nathan appeared where "Vicki" had just been, a frown turning his handsome features into a twisted mess.

"What?"

* * *

Vicki heard someone moving about on the other side of the door, and scrambled to her feet. 

"Nathan, open the door."

"Shut up," he muttered.

"Nathan, I swear to god, if you don't open this door in five sec-"

There was a click, and the door flew open. She tried to step out into what she hoped was light, but ran into a stone-like figure, a soft "oomph" giving her pause.

"Why? Why didn't he send you away?"

Vicki's brow furrowed, momentarily forgetting that she was the prisoner of a crazy person.

"Henry. He didn't send you away. Even when I called him a monster."

Vicki returned to her senses, and tried to shove her way past him.

"Henry isn't a monster."

"Well, you just called him one," Nathan said gleefully.

"You're pretending to be me?" she asked, furious. "What the fuck are you trying to prove, Nathan?"

"That you're a fool, Victoria Nelson. You could have had me, and you chose a vampire? And the bastard son of royalty, no less. It's sick."

"You're sick," she spat, raising a foot to kick him.

Nathan caught it easily and flipped her onto her back.

"He must really love you," he whispered dangerously, his lips very close to hers. "Even when you called him a monster he didn't turn you away. He just went for a walk."

Vicki's mind was racing.

_ Love me? I mean, I know he's said it, but…  
_

She smiled, despite herself.

"I know he loves me," she said proudly, sticking out her chin. "And I… I love him, too."

Nathan laughed, though it held little humor.

"You don't sound very sure of yourself."

"I'm sure," she argued, wishing he would get off her. "I love him."

Nathan snarled, and suddenly the weight pressing down on her was gone.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Only to have the breath choked out of her as hands closed around her throat a moment later.

"Get off me," she gasped, trying her best to twist herself into a less precarious position.

Suddenly she felt her foot collide with something, and Nathan grunted.

"Stupid bitch."

"Stupid fuck," she spat back.

His smile was evident as he whispered in her ear, "I'm going to destroy him. The man you claim to love, I will, and I promise you, I will destroy him."

And then he was gone.

Vicki sucked in large gulps of air, trying to force back the vomit making its way up her throat. She was shaking, but not from fear for herself.

What she was afraid of was Nathan, and what he was going to do to Henry.

If she had learned anything about Nathan from their brief time together, it was that he kept his promises.

* * *

"Vicki" was still there when Henry returned, and he cast a weary frown in her direction. He thought about flashing an obscene hand gesture her way as well, but decided that was more than a bit childish. Instead, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. 

"Come on," he grunted, pulling her towards the door.

Vicki staggered as her foot caught on a chair. Henry caught her easily, uprighted her, then closed the door behind them.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Regardless of how angry he was, he silently scolded himself for his insensitivity.

"I will, will I? And how do you propose I do that?"

"You know what I mean."

She tried to twist away from the strong grip he had on her arm, but when a blast of cold air hit her as they stepped outside, she stopped. Henry sent a silent 'thank you' heavenward.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a while.

Henry didn't reply for a long moment, then dragged her to a grinding halt.

"Here."

Vicki raised an eyebrow.

"And here is…?"

"_Here_," he responded pointedly, "is where you saved my life."

Nathan had no idea where they were, much less its significance.

"So?"

"So, you saved my life, Vicki. If you thought I was a monster, why did you?"

She shrugged.

"Nobody deserves to die like that."

"You barely knew me. You could have let me die and probably felt little guilt. After all, our first meeting was somewhat… unpleasant."

"Yeah. Well." Another shrug. "I worked homicide for eight years. I don't like to see people die needlessly. Regardless of what they are."

"What they are and _who _ they are are two very different things, Vicki."

"Not to me. Because no matter which way you slice it, you're still a vampire at the end of the day. You drink blood, you kill people, and you could kill me."

"Oh, I've wanted to kill you plenty of times," Henry muttered. "You have these walls built around you that are impossible to climb over. You push away the things you could have if you only just tried. You're argumentative, hard-headed, stubborn and annoyingly giving of your time. And no matter how angry you make me, no matter what comes out of your mouth, I'm always going to love you. _You_, Victoria Nelson. I love _you_.

"Maybe you do, but what am I to you? Just another Woman of the Century. When I'm dead, you'll find another woman just like me and you'll forget all about whatever it is you think we have."

Henry's grip on her shoulders was painful, and she squirmed beneath his hold. His face was very close to hers, and Nathan wondered why she put up with this. It was painful, to say the least.

"I told you, back at the hospital. The day you die is the day I wait for sunrise."

Nathan twisted Vicki's lips into a snarl.

"Then you might as well wait for tomorrow, because I don't love you, Henry Fitzroy. I never have, and I never will. This isn't Beauty and the Beast, where you're a monster now, but turn into a handsome prince when the bad guy dies. You're already one and the same; a monster and a prince. And a vampire. And I can't love you."

"Stop it, Victoria!" he cried, and, without thinking, slapped her hard across one velvety cheek.

Nathan felt the betrayal in the sting, and stood there, stunned.

"Monster," she whispered, and turned and ran unseeingly into the night.

Henry let her go.

* * *

"You'll be pleased to know that your precious Henry Fitzroy bought every lie that came out of your mouth," Nathan said cheerfully, leaning against a wall nearby. 

Vicki glared in his direction.

"What did you say to him?"

"Oh, you know. This and that. That you couldn't love a monster, that you couldn't love him at all. That sort of thing. He took it fairly well. He only slapped you. If I were him, I would've ripped your throat out and drained you dry."

"You're sick," Vicki snarled, and spit at his feet. "You're the monster."

"Tsk, tsk, Ms. Nelson. Manners are everything these days."

He grabbed her chin and pulled her head back to an uncomfortable degree.

"I'd watch what you say," he whispered dangerously.

He slammed her skull into the concrete, and darkness swirled against darkness and was gone.

* * *

Two nights. Henry had spent two nights pacing the length of his apartment, wondering where the hell Vicki was. He had scolded himself numerous times for letting her wander about the city of Toronto by herself, unable to see, but he couldn't take back his actions now. He knew he should've gone out to look for her, but wounded pride had kept him tied to the apartment. 

After two nights, however, he was growing worried. Regardless of whatever she'd said, she was most likely lost, curled up in an alleyway, praying he would come looking for her.

"Fuck it," Henry muttered, and snatched his coat off the counter. He had a bad feeling growing in the pit of is stomach. He ran down the stairs three at a time and exploded into the lobby, Greg merely glancing up with an unheard, "Evening, Mr.Fitzroy," then returned to his crossword.

Outside, the cool July air blew his white t-shirt up, and Henry hurriedly tucked it into his jeans, staring around him helplessly. He had no idea where she could be. He closed his eyes and concentrated, waiting until her lingering scent of lavender and shampoo reached his nostrils. With at least something to go on, he began heading downtown, towards the Annex.

Vicki's scent was stronger there, and more-than-perfect vision sought her out amongst the large crowds, but he found nothing. He thought he saw Nathan at one point, but easily pushed the thought from his mind.

Henry stood in the center of University Square and did a complete circle, praying to God Vicki was somewhere nearby. He could faintly hear her heartbeat, one he was so familiar with, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was at least somewhat close by.

At a more sedate pace, Henry headed up 18th and took a right onto Capitol. Her presence was strong here, but Henry wondered why she would have ended up here. The buildings were grungy and old, probably abandoned. The street was covered in grime, and Henry tried to contain his disgust.

"You always manage to find the worst places to hide," he said to himself.

He followed her heartbeat to the last door, and knocked.

"Vicki?"

He waited for a few moments, then tried again, a little louder.

"Vicki?"

"Henry?" he heard someone yell.

He pressed his ear to the door. If he had been anyone else, he would never have heard her cry.

"Henry! Get me out of here!"

Henry glanced around to make sure nobody saw him, then easily kicked the door in.

The inside was dark, but incredible night vision easily illuminated the space. It must have been a small factory at one point, long conveyor belts lined up against the far wall, massive machinery scattered about. There was a door to the left, and Henry yanked the doorknob out and pulled it open. Vicki's heartbeat filled the room as he made his way down the stairs, then stopped in horror at what he saw.

"Vic?" he cried, dropping to his knees beside her, hurriedly yanking off the ropes.

"Henry?" she whimpered, reaching out and caressing his face. "Henry." She pressed her face against his neck and breathed him in, reveling in the strong arms that gently lifted her off the floor and carried her out into the night.

* * *

Vicki awoke sometime later, familiar satin sheets wrapped around her. She stretched and rolled onto her back, Henry's scent filling the room. 

"Feeling better?" a voice asked from somewhere above her head.

"Much," she agreed, sitting up.

A warm mug was pressed into her hands, and she eagerly took a sip of the cocoa.

"Thanks."

"You didn't think I was going to let you wander around Toronto by yourself, did you? I figured you would have found your way back here, or to your office, but once again you managed to get yourself in trouble." He sighed. "So. Are you going to tell me how you ended up in an abandoned warehouse?"

Vicki's face sagged, and she frowned.

"Nathan."

Henry was beginning to think perhaps Nathan had nothing to do with what had happened, and his sigh informed her of his doubt.

"It was Nathan," she repeated firmly.

"Vic, you can't go blaming the guy just because h-"

"Henry, you aren't listening. It was Nathan. I swear to God. I talked to him. He's been here for the past three days pretending to be me!"

"I would've known if he were pretending to be you," Henry explained. "He would've smelled like Nathan. You smelled like… you."

"Because he's a witch or something!" Vicki cried, frustrated. Why wasn't he listening? "He can make himself be whoever he wants. So he showed up at your apartment the other day, while you were sleeping, and knocked me out. I woke up in that basement, and the next thing I know, I'm talking to myself. Because he turned himself into me."

But Henry couldn't bring himself to believe her.

"Vicki, you've never been a good liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You're just trying to cover up what you said the other day."

"What did I say that could make you not believe me?" she begged. "Tell me, because I'd i really /i like to know."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the whole, 'you're a monster, I don't love you' bit?"

"Henry, that was Nathan who said that, not me!" she explained desperately. "Listen to what I'm saying. Nathan turned into me. He said all those things. NOT ME." Her voice softened. "I love you, Henry. You're… you mean everything to me. You aren't a monster. Hell, if you looked like Buttercup, or the Wendigo, I'd _still _love you."

Henry watched a single tear leak out the corner of her eye, and knew she was telling the truth. He caressed her face between his hands, and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I know, Vic. I know," he whispered, and one kiss was all it took for him to be certain.

* * *

Nathan returned from his date with – _what was her name? _ – Marie, and stopped short at the sight of the front door blow from its hinges. 

"What the…?"

He quietly stepped inside, and made his way down to the basement, already expecting to find it empty. How she had gotten out, and blind, at that, he hadn't a clue.

"Goddamnit," he shouted into the silence. "FUCK! You stupid bitch! I swear to god, I will make your life a living hell! You and your precious Henry Fitzroy are going to be oh-so-sorry. Watch out, Ms.Nelson – Hell is coming for you."


	9. Chapter 9

I'm all about constructive criticism/feedback, so if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts!

* * *

Vicki awoke with a start. She couldn't remember what she had been dreaming about, but her stomach was in knots. The sheets were twisted, and her fingers found a hole near the edge.

_ Must not've been a very _good _dream,_ she thought to herself, trying to remember anything she could, lest it be another one of Nathan's crazy spells.

She disentangled herself from the covers and Henry's limp limbs and sat up. She stared in the direction of the alarm clock, wondering what time it was. It was simple things like this that caused her frustration.

"So much for sleep," she whispered.

She still hadn't gotten over the irony of whispering around a – _Dead? Sleeping? _– vampire. She could have made all the racket in the world, and the only people who would have heard her were the other residents of the 17th floor and herself. And there weren't many other tenants on this particular floor; Old Mrs. Bowen lived a few doors down, but her hearing was so poor she would never have heard a thing, and a few younger couples who Vicki rarely, if ever, saw. Though she had _heard _ them on more than one occasion.

She carefully made her way across the room and slipped between the thick blackout curtains Henry had hung between the door and the living room. The air outside was considerably less oppressive, and the feeling of death did not pervade the rest of the house. Vicki wondered if she would ever _really _ get used to sleeping in a room that was a crypt more than anything else.

She could feel the August sun on her face and smiled as she pressed her palms to the glass. In her mind's eye she could see all of Toronto laid out before her, cars speeding along Bloor in an attempt to be on time, business men and women carrying briefcases and steaming cups of coffee, Mrs. Bowen out walking her dog. She had spent so long in that world that she could still picture it, could still imagine herself a part of it.

She missed being able to watch the sunrise as she frequently took a cab back from Henry's, missed stopping by the precinct to discuss a case, or more often solve one, over half-eaten donuts and lukewarm coffee, missed pulling open the door to her apartment to find Coreen, her nose buried in some book about the occult. She missed the mundane task of sitting behind a computer and tracking down petty criminals and runaway husbands.

Since losing her eyesight, life had becoming something of a predictability. A pattern. Repetitious. Boring. She slept away the day, then rose at night, showered, and went out with Henry to discover some new street or tiny shop, a park or restaurant. She was still uncomfortable with eating in public, but she hadn't been fond of it when she could see either, so she didn't see why things would change after going blind. The busy streets of Toronto still made her nervous, but Vicki Nelson was not a woman who admitted defeat simply because she was afraid, and so she never complained, simply gripping Henry's arm a bit tighter.

She was proud of herself, though. She had successfully managed to learn her way around the apartment without any serious collisions, and had even begun taking regular strolls to the coffee shop across the street during the afternoons when she found herself unable to sit still. It wasn't much, but it was a small piece of her independence that she had reclaimed, and she had been happy with that.

Today, she had a feeling, would be one of those days. She found Henry's computer by touch alone and pressed a tiny button on the keyboard.

"It is 7:38am."

She groaned. The device Henry had installed was incredibly helpful, as she could no longer read the numerous clocks in the apartment, but she had found herself on one too many occasions sitting at the computer all afternoon, hitting the button, waiting for each minute to pass by. It was an incredible waste of time, but when one had nothing to do but wait, it provided enough distraction to get her through an hour or so before annoying her to death.

Knowing sleep would not return for at least a few hours, Vicki made her way into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. Her fingers curled around the carton of orange juice, and she carefully poured it into a glass, smiling triumphantly when she didn't spill. Grabbing a box of cereal from a nearby cupboard, she sank into the rich leather sofa and turned on the TV. It had been a habit of hers to eat breakfast in front of the boob tube, and while she couldn't see anything, listening still provided her with _some _ entertainment.

Sitting there, feet curled up underneath her, one hand inside a cereal box, the other clutching a glass of orange juice, listening to the television, Vicki Nelson felt almost normal.

Her unknown nightmare had already faded from memory.

* * *

Nathan scoured his shelves for the tiny, leather-bound book he would need for this most complex of spells. It took nearly half an hour to find it, tucked away between two larger volumes he rarely used. The pages fanned out before him, opening immediately to the center, the spell he needed. 

A complex set of pentagrams had been laid out on the floor in blood, the body of an unsuspecting woman shoved needlessly into a corner. He would dispose of her later.

Stepping into the center of the middle pentagram, Nathan held the book in one hand, the other sprinkling flecks of blood into the other symbols marring what had once been a fairly clean floor.

"Whatever rays comes to me here

I cast you back, I have no fear

With the speed of wind and the dark of night

May all of your harboring turn to light

With the swiftness of the sea

And all the power found in me

As I will so mote it be."

Nathan let the feeling of power flow through him, then stepped from the circle and grinned out at the lightening sky. He wondered if Henry Fitzroy would remember the dawn.

* * *

Henry lay between the cool satin sheets, trembling in fear. He could hear the television in the other room. He heard Vicki's laughter, her heartbeat filling the apartment. The room was dark, the blinds pulled shut, and yet he knew it was morning. He could feel the heat of the sun warming the earth, could feel sleep slipping away, and he feared he was going insane. He knew that, traditionally, vampires did not dream, but perhaps, just this once… 

"Vicki?" he called into the darkness. "Vicki?!"

She had sat through two reruns of Saved By the Bell when she heard Henry's frantic call. She muted the television and focused solely on his voice. Perhaps she had been hearing things, because it was entirely impossible that Henry was awake at this hour.

"Vicki?"

But there it was again, that voice she heard both while awake and in her dreams.

"Henry?" she called cautiously, gripping the back of the sofa.

"Is it morning?" he asked, his voice very close to the doors.

Vicki could picture him pressed up against the barrier to the living room, wondering what on earth was going on. She wished she knew.

"Yeah. It's about nine." She paused, listening for some sign that he had heard her. "Why are you awake?"

There was a long pause, then, "I don't know."

Vicki got up and carefully picked her way across the living room and pressed her hands to the bedroom door.

"Are you sure it's you?" she asked, knowing how foolish she sounded.

"I… I think so," came the response. His voice shook, and Vicki's heart began to beat faster.

"Nathan hasn't possessed you or whatever? You're still you?"

"You're going to have to trust me on this, Vicki. I'm pretty sure I'm me."

She sagged against the door and heard him sink to the floor on the other side.

"Are you okay?"

"A little freaked out," he replied honestly.

"Has this ever happened before?" Vicki asked, searching for an explanation.

"What do you think?"

"Okay, stupid question," she admitted. "Uh… can I come in?"

"How bright is it?"

Vicki heard him slap his forehead when he realized what he'd said, and smiled despite herself.

"I don't know, but it's gotten pretty warm since I woke up. The weatherman said it was supposed to be sunny today."

There was a muted sigh, then quiet movements on the other side of the door.

Vicki waited for a moment, then carefully gripped the handle and tugged. She waited for Henry's protest, but it didn't come, so she quickly slipped inside and ducked between the two curtains she knew hung before her.

"Henry?"

"Over here," came a voice somewhere to her left.

She found him in the corner of the room, and could picture him cowering from the sunlight he expected to invade the room.

"No harm done," he reported, reaching out to grip her outstretched hands.

"Phew." She visibly relaxed.

She began to let go of his hand, intending to take a seat on the bed, but Henry didn't seem content with letting her out of arm's range.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly. "How can I be awake during the day?"

Vicki shrugged.

"No idea. I'll call Coreen and see if she can find anything on breaking vampire tradition. Or whatever it's called."

Henry waited while she made the call, trying to remain calm. When she hung up, he quickly pulled her back towards him, nearly yanking her off her feet when he tried a bit to hard.

"Ouch, Henry! Jesus, I know you're scared, but hurting me isn't going to help," she grumbled, though her words held no menace, and she allowed him to wrap his arms around her. She found herself hugging him back, aware that his hands trembled against her skin.

Running her fingers through his hair, Vicki quietly reassured him. "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for all this. I'm sure you're allowed one day of inconstancies every few centuries or so. Besides," she added playfully, "now I won't have to watch 90's reruns by myself."

Henry shot her a withering look, but found himself smiling at her candor despite her flippancy.

After a while, Vicki sidled up to the window and tugged at the edge of a blind.

"Do you think…?"

"No."

Her lips drew into a frown at his immediate response.

"You don't want to know if you can see the sun?"

"I told you I was waiting until the day you died for that," he pointed out. "Are you dead?"

"Well, no. But-"

"Then no, I don't want to find out."

"Henry-"

"Vicki."

The fear in his voice stopped her cold, her argument lost in a sigh.

"I don't want to risk it. Would you really gamble with my life like that?"

"Of course not," Vicki retorted. "I'm just surprised that, you being awake during the day and all, that maybe you'd want to see if it were possible to go outside."

"I've love to go outside," Henry replied sadly, cupping her face in his hands. "But if I can't, and we open the blinds, I die."

"What if we just let a little light come in? Just enough for you to-"

"Are you going to keep nagging me until I say yes?"

He sounded defeated already.

_Some argument_, Vicki scoffed. _Nelson 1. Fitzroy 0.  
_

"No. If you don't want to, that's your choice. All I'm saying is that who knows? Maybe you could finally look at the sun. I wish I'd known when my last sunrise would be, or I would've paid better attention," she added, almost as an afterthought. "It sounds cheesy, but it really is true about the whole 'not knowing what you have until it's gone' thing."

"Thanks, Aristotle," Henry said sarcastically, though he sounded less afraid then he had a few moments ago.

"Any time."

She leaned against the wall, waiting. She knew he wanted to pull back the curtain, could feel it in the air, which was alive with currents unknown. His desire to see the sun was perhaps even stronger than her own, and given the opportunity, she doubted he could pass it up.

"Okay," he said after a while.

"Okay?"

He nodded. "Let's…" He tried again. "It's worth a shot."

"Yes, it is," Vicki said quietly.

"Just pull back the corner of the blind," Henry instructed. "It'll be enough."

"How will I know when too much is too much?" she asked, worried. She wouldn't be able to see the light that filtered into the room.

"You'll know," Henry assured her. "If you hear sizzling, drop it."

"Not funny," she muttered.

She felt his lips against hers, and eagerly kissed him back.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair.

"Bugger off," Vicki said, swatting him away. "You aren't going to fry, Henry."

_Way to be supportive, Nelson.  
_

"I promise," she added, softening.

With one hand gripping Vicki's to the point where she felt she may have broken a bone, Henry waited.

"On the count of three," she announced. "One."

He took a deep breath.

"Two."

He felt her squeeze his hand tighter.

"Three."

Vicki carefully peeled back the corner of the blind, allowing for the smallest sliver of light to trickle into the room. Henry felt its warmth on his finger, expecting it to burn.

When it didn't, he felt the smile begin to grow.

Cautiously, he placed his entire hand in the light.

Nothing.

"You aren't a pile of ash right now, are you?" he heard Vicki ask.

Fascinated by his ability to stand in direct sunlight, he forgot to answer.

"Henry?"

There was a long pause, and then he began to laugh.

"Great, the sunlight's made him crazy," Vicki muttered.

But she was smiling, too.

* * *

Henry gripped Vicki's hand tightly in his, a hundred-watt smile plastered to his face. He couldn't remember ever having felt this happy, save the moment Vicki told him she loved him. Now, strolling down Bloor Street, his face hurt from the sheer joy of smiling so hard and so often. 

"The world looks completely different in daylight," he observed, half-dragging Vicki into a large throng of people outside a theater. She would have protested, had she the will to dampen Henry's good spirits. As it were, she let herself be strung along behind him, her fingers clenched tightly around his.

"It's so warm! And… Has it always been like this?"

"Like what?"

"So…" Henry couldn't find the words. "I don't know."

Vicki smiled kindly.

"It's always been like this," she confirmed, accepting the styrofoam cup he placed in her hands. "Don't you remember anything about daytime?"

Henry shook his head.

"Not really. Seventeen years of sunlight were wasted away inside stone walls, learning the art of war and the ways in which to become a king. Sometimes I think I was destined for this."

"Being a vampire?"

"Mhm."

"Doubtful," she said under her breath, taking a sip of the coffee.

"You really have no faith in destiny, do you?" Henry asked curiously.

"None whatsoever," she said flatly. "Life is what you make of it."

"You don't think we would have found each other had the demon not existed?"

"No."

She felt his fingers curl around hers as he tucked her arm in his. "I do."

Vicki smiled and let herself be led down bustling city streets.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a while.

"Everywhere," Henry laughed. "I want to see everything. Everywhere we have memories."

Vicki grinned at the man walking beside her, laughing at his childlike attitude towards the world.

"You sound like a five year old," she teased. "I've never seen anyone so excited to see… everything," she finished lamely.

"I wish you could see it with me," he whispered against her lips.

"I still know what everything looks like," she pointed out. "Remember? I have a great memory."

Henry didn't doubt it.

They walked for a long time, and eventually the scent of lavender and roses permeated the air. Vicki knew the smell, knew the park well.

"Hey, I know where we are," she grinned.

"You should," Henry replied.

He led her to a park bench and carefully lowered her onto it, taking a seat as close to her as he could.

Vicki listened to the world around her, filtering out the sounds of nearby traffic until all she heard were the birds chirping and the sounds of people nearby.

"There's an elderly couple walking hand in hand along the path," Henry said, wanting her to be able to visualize what he was seeing. "And to your left, on the playground, there's a family of four. The dad is going down the slide with a little girl, and the mom is swinging the boy."

He watched Vicki process what he was telling her, and watched her lips turn up in a faint smile.

"There's a teenage couple making out behind a tree," he laughed, planting a playful kiss behind her ear.

They sat in companionable silence for some time, Henry stroking a tendril of Vicki's hair, her own fingers lost somewhere in the depth of his curls.

The sun was beginning to droop in the sky, and Henry dreaded nightfall. He wasn't certain if he would be permitted to see the sun rise the next morning, and wished the light could last forever.

Vicki felt his trepidation, and put an arm around his waist, resting her head atop his shoulder.

"Henry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are… are we ever going to have that?"

"Have what?" he asked, tipping her head in his direction and kissing her softly.

"What the family on the playground had."

"Do you mean, will we ever have a family? I thought you didn't want kids."

"I dunno," she said softly, listening to the fading strains of gleeful child laughter. "Sometimes I think about it."

"Do you even want to _have _a family with me?" Henry asked.

Vicki could have taken offense, but instead paused to think. After a long silence, she nodded slowly.

"I _think _ I do." She smiled then. "Sometimes. But could we?"

"We could do anything we want to," Henry whispered, his lips trailing kisses along her throat. "We could beat the odds."

Vicki smiled, remembering the last time she had heard him say that.

"We could," she replied quietly, closing her eyes and leaning back against the cool metal.

"I thought you weren't much of a gambler."

"I thought your vampire magnetism didn't work on me."

He grinned devilishly. "It doesn't."

"Sometimes I think you underestimate yourself," she whispered, and claimed a kiss.

* * *

Nathan stood at a distance, watching the couple in the park. He had spent the entire day following them, watching Henry Fitzroy make a fool of himself. He had never seen a grown man act so childishly delighted by the stupidest things. If daylight made him act that foolish, who needed _real _ magic? 

The two had walked nearly the entire city in a day, or at least any area close enough to walk to. Henry had taken her to three coffee shops, a comic store, the university, four restaurants, and had finally taken her to the park he had taken Nathan to not so long ago, when he had assumed Vicki's persona. Nathan supposed he could understand the vampire's fascination with the place, due to the fact that it held strong memories for him, but the two had sat on a bench for nearly five hours. The sun was now far removed from the sky, and twilight had settled in hours ago. Stars were scattered across the sky and Nathan was getting bored.

"At least take her somewhere else," he muttered under his breath. "There are mosquitoes galore out here."

After another relentless half hour of being bitten by what Nathan often called 'vampire bugs,' Henry finally pulled Vicki to her feet and headed off in the direction of home. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief.

He couldn't decide which would be more painful; He could either let Henry live a few more days in sunlight and then, once he was accustomed to it, take it away, or he could do it now, only a tease.

But then, watching the happy couple walk away, Nathan knew.

He smiled.

* * *

Vicki listened to Henry sleep, his chest rising and falling slowly underneath the weight of her hand. It was nighttime, and the two were curled up in bed, an unspoken fantasy of hers. She had always wondered what it would be like to live a life in sunlight with Henry and sleep at night, like normal couples. Her fantasy had finally become reality, and it had been more wonderful and eye-opening than she could have imagined. 

Henry, however, wasn't asleep. He was watching Vicki, who was propped up on an elbow beside him. Her face read quiet contemplation, and he smiled. He knew what she was thinking about, for it was the same thoughts that had been running through his mind all day.

"Vic?"

She visibly jumped.

"Oh! I thought you were asleep."

She flopped onto her back, and Henry splayed a hand across her stomach.

"No, old habits die hard."

He smiled against her neck.

"What're you thinking about?"

She drew in a breath and turned her head in the direction of the open window.

"What if…" Her voice caught in her throat.

"What if today was all we had?" Henry finished for her.

She nodded.

"If today was the only day I ever get to see the sun, then it was a perfect day. I wouldn't have changed a thing."

"You won't be disappointed?"

"No, I didn't say that, but today was worth a million nights. Spending this one day with you, with the rest of the world, was worth the next sixty years or so of nights."

"Sixty?"

"That would put you at about 90. Do you plan on living forever?" he teased.

"You're serious about this whole dying-with-me-when-I'm-old thing, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"Oh."

Her fingers curled around his, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I love you," he whispered.

There was a long silence while he waited for her reply.

"Vicki?"

His heart began to pound, and he moved her onto the pillow to get a better look.

He felt foolish when he saw the steady rise and fall of her chest; she was already asleep.

Smiling sheepishly, Henry closed his own eyes and drifted off into dreamless slumber.

* * *

_ Vicki padded quietly across the living room, her blood pounding loudly in her ears. The apartment was still, stony, silent. It felt as if all the life had been sucked out of it, and she was merely a ghost amongst the rubble._

"_Henry?" she whispered into the surrounding dark._

_She didn't know why she expected an answer, but when there was none, her heart began to beat faster, knocking against her chest to a macabre beat._

"_If this is your version of hide-and-seek, I quit," she muttered._

_She found her way to the couch and gratefully gripped the cool leather, easing her way around it and taking a seat, only to jump back again in fright when she felt flesh beneath her legs._

"_Henry?" she asked, her voice cracking._

_She hesitantly ran her hands over the body lying on the couch, and when fingers lost themselves in familiar silken waves, she gasped._

"_Henry."_

_She cupped his face in his hands, already knowing her worst fear had been realized. A warm liquid had seeped through his shirt and she could feel it on her hands. Only one liquid had the sticky, yet warm and pervasive scent that filled her senses, and she knew that, if she could see, she would have seen blood covering her hands._

_And then, all of the sudden, she could. Her pupils were blinded by light, and wiping water from them, she squinted into the fluorescents. The room was a disaster, cabinets tipped over, drawings ripped and scattered about the floor, large red stains smeared across a wall._

"_Oh god," she choked, staring down at Henry's body. It was bruised and bloodied, and she sank to her knees beside him._

"_Henry!"_

_She shook him. Hard. And yet nothing happened._

"_You can't be dead!" she cried, his head thudding against the arm of the sofa. "It isn't morning! And you can't have lost that much blood! Henry!"_

_She shook him one last time, his head lolling to one side, and rested her head against his chest, her body heaving as she sobbed._

_Then she began to notice the blood on her hand, and stared down at them in horror, slowly backing away from the sofa. Her hands trembled, and something inside her told her to run, but her feet seemed to be glued to the floor. She stared at Henry's body with wide eyes, heart breaking._

_And, as she stared, his eyes suddenly flew open, blackness boring holes into her soul.  
_

Vicki' eyes snapped open, and she searched frantically for the light switch. She tripped over Henry's shoes and found the wind knocked out of her as she landed face-down on the hardwood floor.

"Vicki?" Henry asked, already beside her.

"Henry?" She groped for his hand, and anxiously ran her fingers over his face and chest. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," he consoled her, taking her shaking hands in his. "Are you?"

She stared unseeingly at him, and shook her head.

"The nightmares. They're back."

* * *

Mike Celluci lay curled up on his side, a sheet the only cover in use during the sizzling month of August. The windows were all open, and a large fan rested on a chair, aimed directly at the bed. Still, droplets of sweat still formed on his brow, even while he slept. Subconsciously, he wiped them away. 

Anyone watching him sleep would have thought his night was dreamless, for he hadn't moved since falling asleep. One hand rested beside him, the other tucked under his chin. Vicki had always told Mike he slept like a log, that nothing she did could ever wake him.

Tonight, like any other night, proved she was right. He had not woken when the dog across street began to bark loudly at two in the morning, hadn't stirred when a grown man climbed through his window half an hour later. He hadn't so much as opened an eye when the man began to mutter incantations under his breath, and Mike never heard him leave.

Now, an hour later, his muscles tensed beneath the sheet. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if he were in a great deal of pain. If anyone had been watching, they would have noticed the red stain that began to form on the crisp blue sheets, would have watched it spread, would have called for help.

As it were, nobody was watching, and Mike awoke to the sound of silence. And pain.

* * *

Vicki egged Henry on as they drove to the hospital, her hands clenched tightly around his. 

"Can't you go any faster?" she begged as he sped through a yellow light.

"If I get pulled over," he pointed out, "it will be a lot longer before we get there."

Vicki knew he was right, but that didn't make the waiting any easier.

It was nearly eight in the morning when the couple arrived at the hospital. Vicki raced up the stairs and Henry _almost _ had to work to keep up. He waited while Vicki badgered the woman at the desk, and simply lead her to the room the detective had been assigned.

"I'll wait out here," he said quietly, and took a seat in the waiting room down the hall. Far enough away to give them some privacy.

Vicki closed the door behind her and planted herself on the edge of the bed.

Mike's gaze turned and slowly focused on her. Then he smiled.

"Hi."

"Hey, big guy," she whispered, gripping his hand firmly in hers.

"Didn't think you'd come," he said gruffly.

"Yeah, well. I like you too much to hate you forever."

Mike let out a wheezy laugh.

"What happened?"

"Dream."

Vicki's brows were furrowed as unfocused eyes stared down at him.

"Like a nightmare?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Mike, it either _was _ a nightmare, or it _wasn't_. Which is it?"

"Was," Mike said after a pause. "Definitely."

Vicki nodded slowly.

"I had a nightmare last night, too."

"You look fine," Mike observed, his voice laced with concern.

"I must've woken up before anything could happen," she reasoned. "But Henry was dead in my dream."

"Well, he _is _half-dead. Not much else you can do about that."

Vicki shot him a withering look, which had.

"Mike," she said, her warning plain.

"Vic, look. We had a huge fight. We stopped talking. You went blind, and you didn't tell me. We fought some more, and continued not talking. Now you're here. Why?"

"Because you called me, you moron!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have. You should go."

"What?"

"Vic, listen. You should get back to Henry's before someone tries to pull something on him, too. I don't like the guy, but he's been taking care of you, and if anything happened to him, I'm not in any shape to help you out."

Vicki wished she could have seen the look on Mike's face as he explained his reasons to her. All she could do was stare blankly in surprise.

"Henry's here," she told him, regaining her ability to form logical sentences.

Apparently Mike disagreed.

"Right. In the broom closet?"

"No, he's in the waiting room."

"Is he a pile of ash?"

"No."

Mike's eyes narrowed.

"Then how is he here? It's eight in the morning. Sun's up."

Vicki slapped her forehead. Mike didn't know.

"Uh, Henry can go outside in daylight now."

"Oh, really."

He sounded unconvinced.

"Yeah. Since yesterday."

"And you don't think it might just be a spell?"

Vicki hadn't thought of that and mentally scolded her stupidity.

"You didn't, did you?"

Vicki shook her head.

"We were so excited..."

Her shoulders drooped.

"I'd get him back to his apartment," Mike said, his voice softening. "Just in case it wears off."

"What if it isn't a spell?" Vicki asked, face hopeful.

Mike selfishly wanted it to be a spell, for Henry to still be cooped up during the day. But the look on Vicki's face broke him.

"Just to be safe."

He squeezed her hand and turned her in the direction of the door.

"About eight steps."

Vicki sighed as her fingers curled around the handle. She tugged it open and just before she slipped out, she turned.

"I'm glad you're okay, Mike."

And then she was gone.

Mike sighed and leaned back into his pillow. Being the bigger man amongst all this wasn't as rewarding as he'd thought it would be.

* * *

Back in the apartment, Vicki found herself unable to sit still. She had walked the length of the living room at least twice before growing bored, and had begun pacing small circles in the kitchen, occasionally bumping her hip against the counter. 

"Oomph," she muttered the fifth time it happened, feeling the bruise already forming.

"Careful," Henry warned, pulling her away as she nearly knocked it a sixth time. He pressed a glass of orange juice into her hands, and she smiled gratefully at the object forcing her to quiet her hands.

"How was he?" Henry asked, pulling himself up onto the counter as Vicki leaned against it beside him.

She shrugged, taking a sip.

"Seemed okay. He's a good liar, though."

"Did he say what happened?"

"Nightmare."

Henry sighed, thankful he couldn't dream.

"I had one, too. Last night. But why am I okay and Mike's in the hospital?"

"Would you rather it had been you?"

"That's not the point," Vicki argued. "The point is that Nathan allowed me to wake up before anything… happened." She had been about to say 'bad,' but upon reconsideration, had decided Henry being dead was bad enough.

"You never told me about your dream," Henry prodded, massaging her shoulders as she leaned into him.

"No, I didn't."

Henry waited.

"Are you going to?"

Vicki thought for a moment, then, "No. It's not important."

"Vicki." His warning was clear.

"No," she repeated firmly. She saw no reason to worry him further. "Nothing happened."

"So 'nothing' had you groping my face this morning for no reason?"

Vicki said nothing, and felt Henry tense.

"I can't believe you're shutting me out," he said. He sounded hurt.

Vicki turned around to face him.

"I'm not. But what I dreamed about last night isn't important. What's important is figuring out why Nathan hurt Mike, but left me alone."

"I wouldn't say that," Henry muttered. She was blind, after all.

It seemed that Vicki was becoming increasingly well-versed in reading his mind.

"I may be blind, but at least I'm not dead." She reached out instinctively for Henry's hands. "We need to stop him, Henry."

Henry wished he knew where to start.

"And how do you propose we do that? You're blind, Mike doesn't think I should leave the apartment in case this is a spell and it wears off, and if it does, I'm a vampire and can't go looking for trouble until after dark."

"And I thought _I _was a pessimist," Vicki muttered. "Listen, we have to try. There's a chance my blindness could be a spell."

Henry could sense the longing in her voice, her desire to see the sunrise again, to be able to see his face when they made love, to regain the independence she had so suddenly lost. For those reasons alone Henry would have searched endless nights for Nathan and his foul magic.

"Okay," he conceded. "Tomorrow night we'll start looking."

Vicki looked confused. "Why not tonight?"

Henry pressed his lips to her throat.

"Because if tonight is the last night I have with you, I want to remember it. Every part of it."

Vicki sucked in a breath.

"_Oh_."

* * *

The next day dawned cold and rainy, and Vicki said a silent prayer of thanks; August in Toronto was sometimes just too much to handle. 

Henry was already awake when she made her way into the kitchen, and sat her down at the table where a breakfast of pancakes and omelets awaited her.

"How're you doing?" he asked, a smug look on his face.

"Sore," she said with a devilish grin.

Henry laughed and took a seat beside her, lifting the fork to his mouth. While human food did absolutely nothing for his appetite, it still tasted wonderful.

"You?" she asked.

"Good."

The scratches she had made up and down his back had already healed.

"Good." She grinned.

"So now what?"

Vicki raised an eyebrow.

"Henry, I'm flattered, but I'm not ready for round two yet."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"No, I mean, where do we start looking for Nathan?"

"Well, the most obvious place to start would be where he kept me hostage," Vicki mused, taking a sip of coffee. "That's pretty much all we have."

"Yeah, but he obviously doesn't live there. And I doubt he's gone back."

"You're probably right," Vicki nodded. "But it's all we've got. Maybe he left something that could tell us where he's gone."

"You think he's still in the city? He could be casting spells from Timbuktu, for all we know."

"And you really think he's in Timbuktu?"

Henry paused. "No."

"I'm pretty sure he's still in the city," Vicki explained. "Where else would he go?"

"That's a stupid question," Henry replied. "He could be anywhere."

"Maybe." She shrugged. "But probably not."

"You think?"

"Did you spend eight years on the force?" Vicki quipped.

"Have you lived for five hundred years?"

They had reached a standstill, and after a long pause, both smiled sheepishly.

"No," the said in unison.

"Okay, well, breakfast was great, honey," Vicki cooed, rising and placing her dishes in the sink. "But I've gotta run. Call me a cab?"

"What for? I'll drive."

Vicki grew serious.

"No, you won't." She sensed his immediate frustration and quickly continued. "Henry, look. Mike's right. This could be a spell. And spells wear off. I'm not going to risk it."

"You aren't risking anything. If I want to go outside, I'll go."

"No, you won't! Henry, if you really i _are /i _ serious about this die-when-I-get-old thing, then what good will it do if you turn into ashes before I reach 34?"

"What good are you going to be?" Henry asked honestly. "You can't see, Vicki."

"Duh, Einstein. But that doesn't mean I'm incompetent. I'll call Coreen."

"Vicki-"

She held up a hand.

"I thought we already had the discussion about people not winning arguments with me."

Henry stared at her long and hard, then sighed.

"One can always hope."

* * *

Vicki met Coreen outside the abandoned building she had been held hostage in not more than a week ago. Her heart was pounding, but she had never been one to let fear control her. 

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Coreen apologized, sidling up to Vicki and linking arms. "Work ran a little later than I thought."

"The pub took you back?" Vicki asked conversationally. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the girl.

"Yep. Not nearly as exciting as chasing down demons or Medusa, but it pays the bills."

"And feeds your obsession for ridiculous clothing," Vicki added fondly.

Coreen lead the way up the steps, making sure Vicki didn't trip. The doorway had been boarded up, like those on either side, and Coreen tugged at it hopefully.

It wouldn't give.

"Allow me," came a familiar voice.

Vicki turned to glare in Henry's direction.

"I thought I told you to stay home."

"You asked," he replied, winking at Coreen. "Asking implies giving someone a choice. I chose to ignore your request."

"Henry, I'm serious. It's daylight. If the spell wears off, then what?"

"Then I hide in the basement. No big deal."

"What if it's not a spell?" the younger girl offered.

"You too? Is the entire world against me today?" Vicki asked, miffed.

"Move out of the way," Henry grinned as Coreen pulled Vicki aside.

The sound of wood snapping in half echoed in the empty alley and Vicki sighed.

"Vampires – never leave home without one," Coreen grinned, and lead the way inside.

As before, the building was pitch black, save the steady stream of grayish light coming in through the open doorway. The air was thick with dust, the walls damp where rain had begun to seep through.

Coreen handed Vicki over to Henry, who easily steered her away from the large machinery scattered about the room.

"Careful," he warned, when she tried to maneuver about on her own. "There's some heavy machinery along the walls. Don't get your fingers caught."

"Thanks for the tip, Sherlock" Vicki said, picking her way across the room.

"So, what're we looking for?" Coreen asked, peering into a shadowed corner.

"Anything that might tell us where Nathan is," Vicki called, her voice muffled from behind a large conveyor belt. "A receipt, phone number, anything."

Henry held up an empty sandwich wrapper.

"I don't suppose this counts?"

"What is it?" Vicki asked.

"Sandwich wrapper."

"Where's it from?"

"That deli you and I always go to. Market something-or-other."

"Any receipt?"

"Not that I can see."

Vicki sighed.

"Then no. Keep looking, though."

After a half hour of searching and turning up nothing, Vicki asked, "You can't, you know, s_mell _him, can you, Henry?"

Henry shook his head.

"Surprisingly, no. He must have learned how to mask his own scent."

"Maybe he smells bad," Coreen offered.

"Maybe he doesn't have one," Vicki retorted.

"Maybe I do," came a voice from the doorway. "Maybe your sense of smell just isn't as good as you thought it was."

All three whirled to find Nathan blocking the faint morning light.

"Hi kids. Looking for me?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Tanya Huff's incredible characters. Hopefully I've borrowed and returned them in pristine condition.

**Notes: **Yes, the long-awaited chapter 10 is finally up! Thanks SO much for those of you who've stuck with me. Hopefully the ending is to your liking!

**Feedback: **Please, please, please let me know what you thought. Knowing that people enjoy what I write is what keeps me coming back. Definitely be on the lookout for more BT fics from me.

Thanks again, everyone!

* * *

Time seemed to stop the moment Nathan entered the room. The four were frozen in some weird sort of tableau, like those often seen in the climax of great cinematic features. Nathan blocked the doorway, arms hanging at his side, rigid, a smirk plastered to his otherwise handsome face. Coreen stood off to the left, half-hidden behind one of the abandoned factory's machines. Henry and Vicki stood in the middle of the room, eyes narrowed, body stiff, respectively. 

Nathan paced the length of the room, slowly circling the couple in the center. It reminded Henry of wolves stalking their prey, and had he been capable of sweating, he would have, for the other powerful figure in the room was making him nervous. Had he been less narcissistic, he would have admitted outright fear.

Vicki's hands trembled, one wrapped around Henry's arm, gripping the soft fabric of his blazer, the other shoved nervously into her pocket, an old habit she'd picked up while on the force. She had a feeling she wouldn't have been nearly as terrified had she been able to see, but the fact that her world was darkness, and that Nathan could be anywhere, had forced a fear to arise in her that she had never known before. Vulnerability was not a trait Vicki had ever considered admirable, so to be dealing with it now, she felt like a hypocrite as well as a coward.

The last time she had faced fear such as this had been over a year ago, after Mike had betrayed Henry and she'd thought him dead. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach mirrored her feelings in those long moments after Henry had been dragged away, and she swallowed back bile that had risen in the back of her throat.

A familiar hand gripped her wrist, and she was rapidly pulled back into the present. There was small comfort in Henry's nearness, but it was, at least, something. The fact that Nathan was in the room with them, and could easily reverse Henry's adaptability to sunlight, or incapacitate her ever more, had her heart thumping to a macabre beat.

"Nice to see you, Victoria," Nathan cooed, and she felt Henry's grip tighten as a finger traced its way down her cheek. She cringed and took a step back.

"What? You aren't happy to see me?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Oh, wait. That's right, you _can't_ see, can you?"

"I'm assuming that's your fault," Vicki quipped angrily.

Nathan shrugged. "It's not like you could see that well, anyway. I did you a favor."

"A favor? How do you figure?"

"I made you face your fear," Nathan said simply. "At least you came to terms with _one_ of them."

Vicki raised an eyebrow. "One of them?"

"Are you going to keep repeating me?" Nathan asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Vicki sensed the danger in angering him further, so she pressed her lips together and waited.

"To answer your question, yes, Miss Nelson, _one_ of them."

Vicki couldn't see, but Nathan shot a pointed look in the other immortal's direction. She did, however, feel Henry's grip on her hand tighten.

Nervously, she squeezed back.

Henry's presence offered little comfort when pulled away from her safety net, one hand rapidly making its way down the small of back, hovering dangerously close to her ass. Her back was pressed up against a cold cement wall, and roving hands made her skin crawl.

Nathan grinned as Vicki's breath caught in her throat as he pressed his lips against the velvety down of her cheeks. Her body strained beneath him, trying to push him away. He could sense her growing fear, and mixed with Henry's mounting anger, it only egged him on.

"Care to stop me, Vampire?"

Henry watched helplessly as Nathan ran his hands over every inch of the woman he had claimed as his own. If he thought he could have stopped it, he would have. In this case, though, he feared for Vicki's safety, and while watching her be nearly violated tested his resolve, he couldn't risk Nathan's anger. Towards any of them. Coreen, mercifully, had remained silent.

Henry kept his temper in check as best he could, trying to offer Vicki his silent support some fifteen feet away. However, when Nathan's nimble fingers began to unbutton Vicki's blouse, Henry let out a dangerous growl, eyes shifting from green to black. The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as the two powerful figures glared at each other. Vicki had no sense of space, her feet stumbling over one another, trying to find her way back to Henry's side. She felt vulnerable just standing dumbly by herself in a room where time seemed to have stopped. She needed stability. What she needed was Henry.

Vicki frantically thrust her hands out in front of her, searching desperately for something familiar. From what she could gather, Henry was somewhere to her right. Or perhaps it was Nathan, she really couldn't tell.

And with that, she ran headlong into one of the large machines scattered throughout the room.

"Big machine, twelve o'clock," Nathan called a bit too late.

"Thanks," Vicki muttered, rubbing her forehead tenderly. Her temple was throbbing.

Cool hands gripped hers, pulling her up and into the safety of his arms.

"Henry," she breathed, relief nearly knocking the wind out of her. As long as she had something familiar to hold on to, to ground her, she would be alright. They would be alright.

Somewhere to her left, she could hear footsteps, heavy soles slapping against the slate tiles. The room was silent, save for the repetitive _slap, slap, slap_ of Nathan's shoes, and Vicki's heartbeat met his pace beat for beat.

The endless sound of nothingness stretched to uncomfortable limits, and finally Vicki could stand it no longer.

"Why are you here?" she asked testily. "What do you want with me?"

"Your charming wit and flowing blonde hair," Nathan grinned devilishly.

If she had been capable of glaring, Vicki would have. As it were, Henry did it for her.

"You're quite self-absorbed, Miss Nelson," he continued. "Everything has to be about you, doesn't it? What makes you think it's you I want?"

"You don't?"

"No, Miss Nelson, I don't."

"But… But the dreams and the blindness…?"

"Just good old fashioned fun."

"Just for fun?!" Vicki exclaimed. "For _fun_? That's fucked up."

She suddenly found herself hanging upside down, held up by an invisible string.

"I'd watch my language if I was you," Nathan warned, his breath brushing against her skin.

"Put her down," Henry growled, taking a step forward, his fear, as well as rational thought, suddenly forgotten.

Nathan smiled calmly.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" He laughed. "Sorry. Already dead."

"Put her down," Henry repeated.

Nathan shrugged.

"If you insist."

Vicki crashed to the ground with little time to cover her head. She could almost feel her brain crash against her skull as she fell, and grunted in pain as she rolled onto her back, clutching her head in her hands.

Henry was at her side before anyone had even blinked, and Coreen's mouth hung open in silent horror, her scream lost amidst Nathan's sigh.

"Mortals. So predictable."

"I swear to God," Henry began, "If you so much as come near her, I'll-"

"You'll what? Kill me? I already told you, that's impossible."

"There's always a way to rid the world of people like you," Henry snapped, pulling Vicki to her feet as she groaned in protest.

"How very heroic of you," Nathan observed. "Unfortunately, your words fall on deaf ears. Miss Nelson isn't what I came here for, as I already said."

"So what do you want with me?"

"Your power."

"My what?" Henry asked, confused.

"Your power," Nathan repeated, agitated.

"If you're talking about not-so-super-human-strength and great night vision, you're welcome to it," Henry muttered. "But leave Vicki out of this."

The other man's lips slowly turned up in an evil smile. "I'm not talking about your admirable vision. I'm talking about your longevity and mental capabilities. Combined with what I already have, I would be unstoppable. I would be the greatest man to have ever walked this earth."

Henry sincerely doubted that. But he was forced to wonder what else this man had taken from others like himself.

"So why did you try to kill me before?"

Nathan shrugged.

"Habit. If I'd killed you I could still have drained your life force and added it to mine, but then I realized it would be impossible to collect your mental abilities. So I decided it would be much more enjoyable to turn your loved ones against you."

To prove his point, with a snap of his fingers Vicki was thrown against a nearby wall and collapsed in a heap on the cold cement floor.

Henry made to go to her, but found his feet strangely incapable of movement. His gaze swiveled to meet Nathan's, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Not so fun, is it? Being helpless? But don't worry," he continued, "I'm not having any fun either. Not yet, anyway."

Henry struggled to lift his feet as Nathan made his way over to Vicki's limp body and pulled a knife from somewhere inside his jacket.

"Watch carefully," he breathed.

He pressed the blade against Vicki's cheek, and brought it down in one swift motion. Blood trickled from the wound, winding its way down her face and pooling on the floor beneath her.

Eyes having been averted, Henry raised his head at the familiar scent of Vicki's blood. It took only a fraction of a second before he realized what had happened, and he roared, arms clawing at the air as his feet remained firmly planted to the ground.

"Damn it, let her go!"

"Why should I? Why should I care one iota about your feelings, Vampire? It isn't my fault you fell in love with a woman who can't love you back!"

"Shut up!" Henry yelled, causing Nathan to jump in mild surprise. "Shut up! She _does_ love me."

"Really. Did she say that?"

"Yes," Henry replied in agony, as Nathan brought the blade back to Vicki's face, slowly pulling it down alongside the cut he had just made. Vicki's skin puckered as the blade moved, and she flinched as she eased back into consciousness.

"I doubt she meant it," Nathan said, shrugging. "This woman is incapable of falling in love. You should know that by now, Henry. How many women have you been with?"

"That has nothing to do with her."

"Doesn't it? If you're such an expert in women, how is it that you've completely ignored the fact that this bitch ran away from you? And not just once! She's lied to your face about sleeping with Detective Celluci-"

"She didn't lie," Henry hissed. "She told me what happened."

"Only after she knew you'd found out. If you hadn't known, do you think she would have told you?"

"Yes."

But somewhere in the back of his mind, a seed of doubt had been planted.

_Would she have told me? Would she have risked losing me, just for the sake of honesty?_

He shook his head.

_She would've told me. I know her. She wouldn't lie. And she wouldn't have lost me, in any case._

"Yes," he said, this time with much greater conviction.

Nathan raised an eyebrow.

_Are these people seriously incapable of admitting the truth to one another? Christ._

"Fine. So you know her. You love her. Whatever, I get it. But that doesn't mean she's going to let it happen, you and her. She's not _that_ stupid."

"We can beat the odds," came a faint voice.

Nathan glanced down at the woman at his feet and smirked.

"You two are hopeless," he muttered.

He jabbed his foot into Vicki's ribs and she groaned, clutching her stomach.

"You really believe that a vampire and a mortal can fall in love and live a normal life together? Don't you get it? There is no happily-ever-after when it comes to stuff like this! This shit is real, it's dangerous, and it doesn't work."

Vicki could detect a hint of sadness that had crept into Nathan's voice, and she raised her head to stare blindly up in his direction, torment briefly flashing across his face.

"Just because it didn't work out for you doesn't mean everybody has to lose," she said quietly. "Maybe you didn't try hard enough, you selfish bastard. No wonder you're so miserable."

Nathan glared at her, his stoic expression back in place.

"Shut up!" he snapped, and pulled the knife from his pocket. "I didn't come here for you, and I certainly don't need to listen to your ramblings. Say goodbye to your first and last true love, as you so call it."

He raised the knife, and Vicki could feel his anger radiating nearby. She tried to crawl backwards, away from him and his threats, but found herself pressed against the wall. She had nowhere to go, could see no exit. She was going to die, and she couldn't even fight for her life.

She heard something split the air in front of her, and suddenly there was an overwhelming sense of pain as a sharp blade pierced her heart. She made a gurgling sound as it twisted painfully in her chest, blood seeping through her shirt and staining her hands as she tried to force Nathan away from her.

"No!" Henry cried brokenly, his voice full of unrelenting anger.

In his need to be near her, to stop Nathan from doing her any more harm, the enchantment holding his feet to the floor was broken, and before Nathan had even turned around, a large metal pole had lodged itself in his chest. Henry's anger rained down on the young man, shoving the pole through his heart, shattering his spine, and ripping a massive hole in his back, where the rod eventually broke through.

And suddenly the world swam into focus. Vicki lay on the floor, blood pooling at her feet, Henry's hands wrapped firmly around – what was it? A stake? – something protruding from Nathan's chest. His knuckles were white in his need to do the man irrevocable harm, and she watched silently as he twisted the pole from side to side, watched the pain disfigure Nathan's face after the initial shock wore off.

"Henry," she choked out, her voice cracking. "Henry, stop," she whispered.

Henry spun around at her words, having almost forgotten everything except his need to kill the immortal who had tried to kill the love of both his lives.

"Vic…"

He rushed to her side and lowered her to the floor, one hand cradling her head in his lap, the other suddenly warmed by the blood on her hand.

It was then that he realized she was gazing up at him, almost as if she could…

"Holy Mary," he whispered, eyes wide. "Vic, can you see?"

She nodded slowly, her breathing shallow.

"Spell dies with the person who cast it," she repeated from memory.

Then her eyes grew wide.

"Henry, run!"

Sunrise had been hours ago, and as Nathan's breathing grew ragged, Henry's adaptability to sunrise was weakening. His skin was already blistering, not unlike the sunburn she received from sitting outside for too long.

"I'm not going to let you die," he growled, gripping her hand tightly. "Not today."

"You stupid fuck," she mumbled, tears slowly leaking out from under her lashes. "Get out of here."

"No!"

"Henry, please," she whispered, kissing his hand, her lips lingering. "Go. I'll be fine."

"Vicki, I hate to tell you this, but you're not fine! You've lost a lot of blood. We need to get you to a hospital."

"I'll call Mike. It'll be fine."

Her eyes pleaded with him, begged him to go, and yet he couldn't tear himself away from her, even in his impending death.

"Vicki, I-"

"I know. I love you too, you stubborn son-of-a-bitch."

She smiled weakly as he laid a hand against her cheek, running a finger along the two deep cuts Nathan had made.

"You know," he whispered brokenly, "it's funny how things work out. I thought you'd die of old age and I'd just wait for sunrise."

She offered a questioning look in response.

"You're dying, but you're still young. I'm going to die, but the sun's already up." He gave a weak smile. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"I can't believe you're worried about irony right now," was all she said. But she understood.

"Come on, we have to get you to a doctor," he repeated, eyes wild with fear as he glanced towards the window. He only had minutes, perhaps seconds, to spare.

"No!" she argued with her last bit of strength, slouching against the wall. "Leave. Come back tonight and we'll-"

"We'll take you to the hospital," came a voice from the doorway. "Nobody's dying if I have anything to say about it"

It was Mike.

* * *

Nighttime had one again descended upon the city of Toronto, and Vicki Nelson found herself surrounded by a familiar sea of faces, once again prisoner of the Toronto General Hospital. Coreen was curled up in an overstuffed chair in the corner, Mike leaned his back against the window, and Henry was perched on the edge of the bed, worrying the corner of the blanket with nimble fingers. 

No one had spoken in the near hour Vicki had been awake, and from where she lay nestled amongst the pillows, she waited anxiously for someone to begin. When nobody did, she sighed, pulled herself into a half-sitting position, and took a deep breath.

"Jesus H. Christ, guys! Who died?"

Mike shot her a withering look, which Vicki easily withstood.

"Do you realize what happened today?" he asked, voice shaky.

"Yeah, I do. I got stabbed. Big deal."

"Vic, you almost died," Henry reminded her, looking up. "If Coreen hadn't snuck out and told Celluci what had happened, we'd both be dead."

"But we aren't," she argued. "Don't get me wrong, Mike, I really appreciate what you did. You too, Coreen," she added. She glanced in Henry's direction and offered a small smile. "But I wasn't going to die from being stabbed."

But Mike had had enough.

"Fuck, Vic! You really think you would have made it? You aren't fucking Superwoman! You aren't fucking Christ!"

"No, Mike, I'm not!" she snapped. "But I'm fine. I'm not dead, and I'm certainly not dying." She glanced around at the other three. "Nobody is."

Coreen shrugged. "Not yet."

Vicki shot her a look.

"I'm just saying," she said, holing up her hands in defeat. "If Nathan had actually noticed me leaving, we'd all be dead. And if Mike hadn't gotten there in time, you two would be dead."

"That's a lot of 'what ifs,' Henry reminded her.

"Don't even," Vicki said. "You weren't going to leave unless someone literally dragged you away."

"Which I did," Mike pointed out.

"I wasn't going to let you die," Henry repeated.

"Enough with the dying, already!" Vicki cried, throwing up her hands in frustration. "Can't we talk about something happy?"

"Like what?" her three compatriots asked in unison.

After exchanging looks with each other, the silence was broken by hysterical laughter.

* * *

Henry entered on a breeze, easily navigating his way through the hallways of Michael Celluci's house. It was late, and Mike was likely fast asleep. Henry made quick work of the security system and made his way to the detective's bedroom, his slowed heartbeat an indicator of sleep. 

It had been a while since Henry had been forced to erase a man's memory, but tonight he had a purpose. Eliminating any memory of Nathan and what he'd done to them was the task at hand, and he made a mental note to never bring up the immortal in conversation after this moment.

Placing one hand on either side of the Mike's head, he closed his eyes and focused intently on his breathing. The vampire focused all his energy on releasing the past month's events from the man's mind and for a moment his breathing faltered. Henry waited patiently, and a few seconds later Mike's chest began to rise and fall to its regular beat.

It was done.

* * *

Henry stared down at Vicki's sunken face, a hand instinctively reaching out to brush a stray curl off her cheek. He had always been fascinated by how she slept, one arm draped across her stomach, the other stretched out above her head. There was always the faintest trace of a smile on her lips, and he had often wondered if there was a secret hidden there. He dared not ask, but it was a thought that occupied his mind quite frequently. 

He knew that this was it, the last piece of the puzzle in erasing Nathan's memory from the world. Celluci and Coreen had been taken care of, as well as Vicki's mother and the otherwise involved policemen and doctors, but Vicki… This was much harder. For, in erasing her mind, he would erase all of her memories of the two of them, of the day they had spent together, of her admitting her feelings.

Henry supposed it was selfish to even consider leaving her with the memories of what Nathan had inflicted upon her, and yet he couldn't help but take pause. It had taken him nearly a week to decide on this particular course of action, and he couldn't back out now. He had thought it through, and this was right, no matter how much it pained him.

When she awoke, Vicki would not remember having ever said she loved him, would not recall holding hands while strolling through the park, would never be able to bring back the memory of sitting on a park bench, talking about someday starting a family together. Everything would return to a time when Vicki was stuck in her ways, unwilling to admit her feelings, avoiding any opportunity for intimacy.

_But this is how it has to be_, Henry reminded himself.

Because knowing, in the end, how she truly felt had made all the difference. He had waited nearly a year and a half for her to say the three words every human being longs to hear, and he had all eternity to wait for her. He knew the end result now, and that gave him courage to do what he was about to do.

With one last look at her lips, that secret hidden so well, until now, he placed a hand on either side of her head.

* * *

Vicki awoke with a start, heart pounding. She tried to focus on her breathing, but the only thing running through her mind was _Henry._

She had to see him.

Blindly, she grabbed a sweatshirt and hurriedly called a cab. One thing she appreciated was the fact that she never had to worry about waking Henry up with her sporadic late-night visits.

She stared out the window, watching Bloor Street speed by in a flash of light. Even at three in the morning, Toronto was still wide-awake. Her fingers tapped the seat in quick succession, desperate to get to Henry's apartment.

She was out the door and inside the elevator before the taxi had even pulled away from the curb.

She paced circles inside the tiny space, staring uneasily at herself in the grey metallic walls. She could not recall ever having had a more realistic dream, and something inside her told her that she had to see Henry, needed to be with him, to make sure he was alright.

She didn't stop to primp herself before knocking, and rapped loudly against the heavy wood door.

"Henry, are you home?" She licked her lips nervously. "Please be home," she added under her breath.

It took only a few moments for Henry to unbolt the door, and he peered anxiously out into the hallway.

"Vic?"

She smiled that goofy smile of hers, the one she flashed when she knew she was overreacting.

"Hi."

He didn't need to ask; something was obviously wrong. He opened the door wide enough for her to slip inside, then carefully closed it behind her. When he turned around, she had settled herself on the couch, pillow nestled in her lap, her fingers doing still more damage to the remaining fringe.

Henry raised an eyebrow, trying to make light of her mood.

"Well?"

"I had the weirdest dream," she explained, sounding almost confused, if not a little awed. "I can't remember much but… I think I had sex with Mike. And you were both mad at me. Or something. And you could go out during the day, and I was blind. And there was something about a factory, I think. Or big machines." She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. "I don't know."

Henry smiled kindly.

"Doesn't sound like a very good dream to me."

Vicki shrugged. "No, I guess not. It's weird, though. I feel like it actually happened."

The vampire shook his head.

"Our lives have never been _that_ exciting. And the last time I saw sunlight I was seventeen. I'd say it's a pretty safe bet you were dreaming."

Vicki nodded slowly, eyes clouded by something resembling disappointment.

"You're right. I don't know why I was so worked up over it."

She smiled up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"You probably think I'm crazy."

Henry grinned.

"Maybe a little."

Vicki swatted him playfully, leaning into the couch's leather cushions.

"Bastard."

"Indeed I am," Henry said with mock severity, bowing until his hair brushed against the floor.

"Yeah, but I like you well enough," she teased.

"You do?" he asked, seductively leaning over the back of the couch, intent perfectly clear.

Vicki easily dodged him by jumping up and heading for the kitchen.

_Definitely back to the way it was,_ Henry thought with a hint of sadness.

"Hey," he heard a voice call from the other room, "where's my leftover Chinese?"

"Damn it," he whispered. _I probably should've replaced that._

And then Henry smiled. Perhaps his vampiric powers of persuasion worked on her after all.

**Fin. **


End file.
